


You're More Than My Guard Dog

by mountain_ash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Lydia Martin, Canon-Typical Violence, Confused Stiles Stilinski, Cursed Stiles Stilinski, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fanart, Fluff, Fringe references, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Magic, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Scott McCall is a Good Alpha, Slow Burn, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, derek actually understands his feelings, mentions of danny mahealani - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_ash/pseuds/mountain_ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has returned to Beacon Hills and is quickly caught up in a new misadventure as Scott's pack returns from college and Stiles is placed under a necromancer's curse. Since Derek has absolutely nothing to do, Scott relegates him to guarding Stiles, old memories are awakened in Derek, and he and Stiles learn more about each other than they ever meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> There's no real smut in this story and as far as I know there aren't too many triggers, though Stiles does have occasional panic-attacks to keep with his character. Any possible triggers and warnings are in the notes ahead of each chapter. Last, I’ve never written a real fanfic before, so if you have any suggestions about anything please tell me in the comments (but try to be nice/constructive)! Thanks for reading!

Derek woke up in his loft for the first time in almost 2 years. It was disorienting. All of the smells that used to be there had all but faded away, leaving ghosts that disturbed him with their transience. The smell of coffee and take-out, wood polish from repairs, Lydia's perfume, Scott's alpha scent, all had faded into near oblivion. Another year and it would have been as if they hadn't existed. Stiles' scent, however, clung everywhere, mixing in with the smell of coffee. He had been in the loft, more recently than anyone else. His smell was on the couch, in the doorways, and even in his bed. It completely overwhelmed the almost fully faded scent of Braeden, for which he was extremely grateful.

Searching for the Desert Wolf with Braeden had been good for the first year. They made progress, they made love, they contemplated a future together. But Braeden, like himself, could not let her preoccupations go, and she had become distant from him. She had slowly stopped talking about the future, stopped involving Derek in the leads she had found, stopped seeing him as her partner, in any sense of the word. One day he just decided to leave and she didn't question it. 

At first he didn't know where to go. He thought about returning to New York and starting over completely. He had enough skills to make it in something. Instead he had found himself back in Beacon Hills, hiding away in his loft trying to stay away from everything. 

Though he wouldn't admit the reason to himself, he tried at all costs to avoid Sheriff Stilinski. He thought he had succeeded until the end of May when a knock came at his door. Without even getting close to the door, his knees almost gave out at the scent that assaulted him. Stiles.

He considered not opening the door, pretending he wasn't there. But nothing ever was easy with Stiles. "Open up Derek! I know you're there. My dad told me." 

Derek took a deep, shaky breath, trying to assimilate to the new strength of Stiles scent. To his accelerating heartbeat. And then he opened the door and Stiles was there and he didn't know what to take in first. His smooth skin, or his grown out hair tied up in a bun, or his newly built muscles, or his bitter hazel eyes. Derek tried avoiding those. 

Instead he stared at Stiles' chest and focused on his heart beat. It jumped in speed as soon as Derek had opened the door and then had suddenly slowed, as though he had suddenly become calmer. But Derek had to look up eventually, and his eyes were not calm. Stiles just stood there, breathing harshly through his nose, his hands clenching and unclenching rapidly, his eyes hard and shining as he took Derek in.

Stiles couldn't quite handle Derek's presence. It was like it had always been, but suddenly it was more overwhelming than ever before. When his dad had gingerly told him that Derek was back in Beacon Hills, but was apparently trying to be secretive about it, Stiles had pictured himself casually driving over to the loft and stealing himself to act like everything should be normal. Like he was still a marginally goofy kid fresh off his freshman year of college. Like the dread doctors hadn't happened, like he hadn't accidentally ended a life, like Lydia had never ended up at Eichen House, like his Jeep hadn't finally died. 

But those things had happened, and Derek wasn't there, and he hadn't kept in touch, and Stiles had been utterly alone. But he couldn't make himself be angry and he couldn't pretend he was happy, and so he just stood there staring, tears welling in his eyes. 

Derek couldn't comprehend what was happening, or what the combinations of scents that crashed into his nose were, but he knew that Stiles had been hurting for who knows how long. He reached for Stiles' hand and pulled gently. "Come on in kid," he said softly, and Stiles let himself be guided into the wolf's giant, warm arms. They were the same height now and so Stiles just let his head fall into the crook of Derek's neck and his arms clung around his upper back, his long fingers digging into Derek's shoulders. 

Voice weary and resigned from the weight of feeling so many experiences too suddenly, Stiles spoke quietly from Derek’s shoulder. "I'm not a kid anymore, you know?" 

Derek knew that Stiles was pointing out the fact he had turned 18 a long time ago, and he knew that Stiles was reminding him that he hadn’t been there, but he also knew there was more weight in the question than that. He sighed, "You haven't been a kid for a long time."

Stiles hesitated a moment after his answer and then pulled out of the hug, looking directly into Derek’s face. "Why didn't you ever contact us?"

It was potentially one of the most earnest things Stiles had ever asked him, and Derek desperately wanted to escape the brutal intimacy of this reunion but the look on Stiles’ face wouldn’t let him. "I didn't know you needed me to,” he replied lamely. He really couldn’t think of anything else. He had thought it was his time to leave the pack. To let Scott take over as the leader he was supposed to be. 

At that response, Stiles let out a wobbly breath on the verge of a hysterical chuckle. "I didn't either." He shook his head as if at a loss for words. “Until… until you wouldn’t have even been able to make it better if you tried.”  
~~~~~~~~

She knelt at the Nemeton, pressing her palms harder and harder into its charred trunk, as if it would bend beneath her touch. "What did they do you?" She whispers, as though the felled tree could answer. "Who defiled you like this?" The ring of fire surrounding the trunk and the woman sitting atop it just sputtered and dispersed, as if it had tried to answer but couldn't muster the energy to think of the words. 

She was old, her dark skin paper thin with age, clinging overly tight to her high cheekbones. Though the woman's face was gaunt with age, her black eyes glistened with vitality and ferocity. Raised symbols on her bald scalp pulsed bright and white with the flickering of the fire. 

"How do I make this work without you?" Again she spoke to the severed trunk as though it could hear her and respond, and again the flames sputtered pitifully.

"You let a human through." She said with surprise. "And a werewolf. To Bardo?" A moment of realization flashed in her bright eyes. "Can you show them to me? Their minds?" The flames hesitated, dying down instead of sputtering back to life. "Show them!" The woman was angry now. The Nemeton didn't want to help her anymore, but she couldn't have that. She dug her nails into the burnt wood and commanded the tree to tell her, every one of the marks on her scalp eliminating vividly. The flames screamed as they flared up in a high blue ring.

"Ah! The werewolf won't do. But the human. The human's mind is scarred deeply by Bardo. That will open easily for me." The fire had died out and she was no longer speaking to the tree. Its job was done. "Now to bring him here." 

Still sitting in the center of the Nemeton, feeding off the meager energy it had left, she focused her energy on the boy. Webs of magic wrapped themselves around his mind, biting themselves into the crevices of his will-power until she had him snared. The magic whispered in his mind, over and over, "Come to the Nemeton."  
~~~~~~~~

Derek had gotten Stiles to sit down and drink some tea, despite his highly anticipated protests against the drink. 'Some things don't change at least,' Derek thought with a little relief.

Stiles stood so abruptly he knocked the mug from Derek’s hands as he held it out to him. “Dammit Stiles! What the-” his voice trailed away as he saw the look on Stiles’ face, a mixture of confusion and determination fighting for control of his features. 

“I have to go.” And Stiles turned and started walking out toward the door, his steps chopped and rigid, nothing like his usual, slightly awkward lope. 

“What? Stiles you just said you were going to tell me about what happened after I left.” Derek was confused as he stepped quickly to keep pace with Stiles. 

“I have to go.” Stiles repeated. 

“Where?”

“The Nemeton.” His voice raised at the end, scared, as though the statement was a revelation he was not expecting. 

“Stiles, stop! Humans don’t just suddenly have to go to the Nemeton. This isn’t safe.” He grabbed Stiles arm as they reached the edge of the forest, but it was as if he wasn’t there. Stiles simply braced his arm and continued walking, dragging Derek behind him.

“I…” Stiles shook his head, fighting for his own words. “I can’t stop, Derek. If you want me to be safe, you’re just going to have to follow me. Or let me drag you.” He was only human, but at least he still had his sarcasm. 

As they reached the charred trunk, the first thing they saw was an old, bald woman covered in glowing tattoos with a ferocious and simultaneously mildly confused look on her face. The second thing they saw were all of the members of Scott’s pack, assembled at the Nemeton. Lydia, Malia, and Kira stood together, clearly having been hanging out when they were rudely interrupted, while Mason, Liam, and Hayden stood in another cluster, while Brett, Ethan, and Scott stood alone. 

The second Stiles broke into the circle, it was as though the trance on all of them dissipated and the woman’s tattoos ceased their glowing. “Who are you all? I only asked for him!” She raised a bent, arthritic looking hand at Stiles. 

No one responded, still apparently slightly dazed by whatever she had done to them, but Derek was unaffected and suddenly knew, at least partially, why. “They’re a pack. They’re bonded, and when you called one, you called all of them.” 

She looked positively baffled. “A pack? But he’s a human.” 

Derek just stared at her for a moment, confused how someone as old as this woman with apparently substantial magical ability could be so ignorant to werewolf lore. She smelled like death and he didn’t know why and he didn’t want to spend more time with her. “Yes. A pack. And a large one.” Derek couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate how large the pack had grown. And how much it had solidified. Regardless of what had happened, what Stiles had meant to tell him moments before this rude interruption, Scott had gathered together a large and tightly knit pack. “Their bond is strong enough that they all came when they felt you calling Stiles.”

“And we protect Beacon Hills from people who threaten it.” Scott had apparently come to. 

“Look this is cute and all, but I don’t have time for this. I only wanted the human, and the rest of you might delay the process, but you can’t do anything about it.” And with that her tattoos flared brightly once more and Stiles was literally pulled across the ground to the edge of the Nemeton where she pressed her palm firmly against his brow. Stiles' scream at her contact was blood curdling and Derek could hear the collective pack’s heart rates accelerate in terror. His own felt like it was in his throat. 

As quickly as she had connected with Stiles she let go. He dropped to the ground, and he backed away, shuffling backwards on his hands and feet, terror in his eyes. “What did you do to me?” His nostrils were flaring in fear, and his voice quaked. 

“Beacon Hills should not belong to you humans, and thanks to you, it isn’t going to much longer. Isn’t it ironic. A human giving away his home to the supernatural.”

“What do you mean?” Scott was demanding and calm, ever the true alpha. “There are supernaturals all over Beacon Hills.”

“But they hide.” Her voice seethed with bitterness. “And the human should now be very afraid to sleep.” Her tattoos flared one last time, and she was gone. 

Everyone just stared for a moment, and then they crowded around Stiles. 

“Wait.” Lydia pushed past Scott who had just started crouching in front of Stiles. Pointing at Stiles’ face and looking concerned she asked, “What is that?”

“What’s what?” Scott was understandably confused. There was nothing there. 

“What do you mean ‘what’s what?’. It’s a mark. I don’t know how to describe it. One sec.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a pen, and scratched away at her palm for a minute. Holding out her palm to the pack, she announced, “It looks like this.” 

On her palm was a simple flat line drawn, with two semi circles touching it tangentially in the center, facing away from each other. 

“Oh my god a witch has cursed me with some creepy symbol only the banshee can see. This is awesome, just great. I clearly got too used to nothing bad happening to me while I was school. Why do I come back to this place? Beacon Hills is not somewhere I should ever come back to ever again.” Stiles’ breathing was becoming shallow and his hands were pulling at his hair and he was rocking aggressively back and forth. He knew he was on the verge of a panic attack, and apparently so did Derek, who put he hands on Stiles’ shoulders from behind and squeezed firmly.

“Stiles, breath.” His voice rumbled in a way none of them had heard before and Stiles breath caught for a moment before he let it out slowly and tilted his head back to stare into Derek’s ice blue eyes. “We’re going to see Deaton now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	2. A Sleepless Night and Plenty of Research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The supernatural lore in this chapter is mostly true to what I know of afterlife and stuff, but some of it is definitely improvised for the purposes of this story. Also, thanks for the kudos and bookmarks so far!

Since in their trance-states, they had all walked to the forest, a long tense walk to Deaton’s stretched out in front of them. In a desperate attempt on everyone’s part to distract Stiles from his panic, the time was naturally filled with awkward attempts at interrogating Derek about his reappearance. 

“So Derek.” Of course it started with Lydia. “What brings you back?” 

Derek sighed, ‘Always the straight-shooter, she was.’ He kicked himself for foolishly believing he could avoid this and not preparing better answers. “Well, uh. Well. I had nothing else to do...” If a look had ever made him want to wither and die it was the look of incredulity on her face masking utter fury beneath. 

“Nothing… else... “ Scott sounded like he was trying to stay level. “Well. Why don’t you start with what you were doing when you did have stuff to do?”  
“Right. I was hunting for the Desert Wolf. With Braeden.” His thoughts were moving like molasses and he couldn’t come up with anything better. All he could focus on was Stiles, slightly to his left, moving uncharacteristically calmly and looking straight ahead. He had seen that look before, before the Nogitsune had taken complete control. When Stiles had realized his mind was no longer his own and he was the reason his home was in danger. 

“Derek!”

He started, shaking his head briefly. “What?” 

Malia sighed, “I said, you weren’t aware that the Desert Wolf had ended up in Beacon Hills were you? She tried to kill me.” The coyote looked up at the sky for a moment, eyes shut almost reverently. “I killed her instead.” 

Derek did not miss the wince Scott tried to hide at his left. Apparently that old rule still stood in his heart. Derek hadn’t expected anything less. 

“She came to Beacon Hills.” He repeated it slowly, incredulously. “And you killed her.” The irony was incredible. “When?”

“Spring, Senior year.” Ethan supplied. “A little after I came back.”

Derek grunted, trying to stifle his chuckle and failing. Nine pairs of eyes looked at him, almost horrified. Even Stiles turned his way slightly, looking surprised.

“It was hardly a funny time.” This was the first time the new girl had spoken. She smelled strange and he couldn’t figure out what she was. “I’m Hayden, by the way. Liam’s year. A chimera-werewolf.” She had clearly noticed his inquisitive glances. 

He grunted again in recognition of the information. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I know some bad stuff clearly happened while I was gone. It’s just…” He trailed away, not really wanting to talk more about Braeden. Stiles, surprisingly jumped in.

“It’s just that Braeden is supposedly a master at this stuff, and here she is still off somewhere looking for her a year and a half later.” 

Derek nodded. “I’m not sure if it’s a testament to Braeden losing her edge or The Desert Wolf’s evasive ability.”

“Probably both.” Mason’s input, as usual, was just slightly too upbeat. 

“Sooooo…” Kira looked incredibly uncomfortable. “When did you get back then?

“Four-freakin’-months ago.” Stiles was again answering for him, but something in his tone conveyed to Derek that he still intended to have the talk they had been just sitting down to when the witch had called. 

“Why did you come back?” Lydia put special emphasis on the why, and he knew he had to have a good answer, but he didn’t have one.

After a long pause, he took a breath and spoke. “This was my family. Last time I tried leaving Beacon Hills I thought I could start over, but I couldn’t. I made peace with this place and drifting isn’t for me. I don’t know if I really have a pack anymore, but I’m connected here regardless.” 

It somehow managed to be a satisfactory answer. 

Scott looked at him earnestly as they finally approached Deaton’s. “You’re still pack to us, if you want to be. For all that we thought you were gone, we never stopped thinking you belonged with us.” 

Derek wasn’t surprised to hear that Scott’s heartbeat stayed true and steady through his offer. He would not have said it if he didn’t intend to mean it. He was baffled, however, when no one else’s sped up either, as though this was something they had all agreed upon at some point in the past. As though Scott’s offer was expected and almost welcomed. Without even verbalizing his willingness to belong with them again, he could already feel the bond between the ten of them reach out to him. 

“I... would like that...” then he added, “to be your beta.” He offered Scott a small smile, and he felt it returned from the others. 

“Alright.” Stiles interjected, unabashedly ruining the mood. “Let’s figure out why I’m supposed to be afraid to sleep.” And he pushed through the door with the ‘Closed’ sign, a grim smirk plastered on his face.

 

For once they were arriving at a reasonable evening hour and Deaton didn't look as if he had to fight back his irritation. "Good evening. The gang's all back."

"And in need of some emissary knowledge." Lydia cut right to the chase, holding out her palm with the symbol on it. Deaton's eyebrows knit together. 

"I'm going to need some context. I'm afraid I can't tell you what that is by sight." 

"Um, I think Derek's better for that." None of the pack had been aware enough from the beginning to tell the story with enough detail to give Deaton everything he needed to know. 

Derek explained everything with his typical brevity, monitoring Stiles' heartbeat the whole time. It sped up when he mentioned the witch's confusion at their pack bond, and once more when he told Deaton how she had marked him. He knew him well enough to understand that the first was Stiles getting excited by likely important information. The second bordered on panic and Derek itched to pull it out of him like he had in the woods, but he restrained himself and skirted over that part of the story as quickly as possible. It returned to normal painfully slowly. 

"So this woman smelled like death, you said?" Deaton had listened to the whole rehash of events and apparently that was the most important part so Derek elaborated.

"Yeah. Not like decay or rot, but..." Derek struggled to find the words. Usually death did actually smell like those things, but this had been nothing so literal. "It was like the essence of death. Like the smell around people right before and after they die."

"Hmm. My thinking is that we're dealing with a necromancer. Mostly because of the smell. They exist in this condition between life and death, and so the space around them is more permeable to spirits in transition across plains."

"A necromancer? Like bringing people back from the dead, necromancer?" Mason again looked too excited.

"Yes and no. Because of the nature of their magic, people throughout history have adjusted records of necromancers. So what some records say they can do, others might say they can't."

"So we're on a wild goose chase after a lady bent on taking over Beacon Hills with dead people, and for some reason because of that I'm not going to be able to sleep without being terrified that everything is going to blow up in smoke the second I close my eyes!" Stiles' body was visibly shaking with the force of anxious energy bursting from under his skin.

"Stiles, we'll figure this out. We always figure this out. You just need to focus, like old times." Lydia had put firm hands on both of Stiles' shoulders, looking into his eyes so deeply Derek was sure she could probably see his brain. 

Taking in a shaky breath Stiles said, "Let me go and get my medicine. I'll be back." 

"I can get it." Said Derek. "You didn't drive and I can run there." 

Stiles gave him a look like 'thank you very much I got this,' but after a moment he conceded and nodded, "Thanks." 

Deaton opened the doors for Derek and he shifted as soon as he hit the open air. The emissary looked down at the black wolf with ice blue eyes, a considering expression on his face. 

"They told me, but I had forgotten. That you've evolved." 

Derek simply blinked slowly at him in response and then took off down the road, paws hitting the familiar cement path towards Stiles' home. He hadn't run like this for a while, hadn't shifted at all in fact. He had been an Omega for a long time and shifting without a pack didn't feel safe, but he wasn't alone anymore, and he felt the edges of ten other minds around his own. He had never wanted to be an alpha and it felt good to be someone's beta again. 

The Stilinski house was empty, thankfully. He didn't want to explain what had happened to the Sheriff. Stiles should do that. Scaling the house like so many times before, Derek flipped the broken latch and leapt into Stiles room. The Adderall was exactly where it had always been, the only thing Stiles had always made sure to put back in the right place. 

He decided to get his car on the way back and get the pack some coffee. If good info on the necromancers was as hard to find as Deaton said, and Stiles couldn't sleep until they found it, they'd be needing lots of caffeine. 

When he got back and knocked on the door, Stiles practically slid into the glass in his hurry to pull it open. "What took so long? I'm bouncing all over the place!" Then he saw the two trays of coffee with his RX bottle balanced on top of one of the cups. "Dude, lifesaver." He popped two and chugged them down with his coffee, 1 cream and 3 packets of sugar. Derek had done enough stake outs to remember his coffee prep, but Stiles winced. "I don't do my coffee like that anymore, but I guess I could use the sugar tonight." He stood still for a second, blinking rapidly, before adding, “I can’t believe you even remembered that.” Then he walked away and Derek took a second to get himself moving to follow. 

Lydia had left with Mason and Kira to get laptops to supplement Deaton's vast book supply. When they returned in her car they settled in wherever they could find and set to work. Derek had also grabbed blue and red string along with thumb tacks from Stiles' room, remembering how he had trouble focusing his thoughts without the tactile webs he created. 

Derek listened more than he actually read, appreciating how Stiles and Lydia's minds fit together so well, just as they used to. Recognizing how Mason caught on to nuances between stories, how Scott had learned to connect the dots when Lydia made leaps of logic. Brett and Ethan enjoyed order and neatness, making charts and lists out of the disordered webs Stiles created. Malia and Kira skimmed the indexes of books creating piles that could serve their purposes, while Hayden and Liam skimmed website after website, ACT speed reading at its finest. Derek just appreciated how smoothly they all took on their roles, recognizing their own weaknesses and using their strengths.

Eventually, hours later, they had created a cohesive pattern out of as many myths and accounts they could find. The symbol had stopped showing up as the myths became more recent, but it was always associated with what seemed to be the same necromancer. An ancient woman described as having dark skin. Tattoos were a variable part of myths about her, but she was always dark and ancient. Her name differed depending on who wrote the myth, but those written by werewolves always called her "the Dead Bringer." 

"So we've got this lady called the Dead Bringer, who is apparently ancient or something and she cursed me with this thing that allows spirits to come into this plain through my brain when I dream. Or something." It was 2:30 in the morning.

"But why does she need your brain to do it?" Mason interjected. "Bringing spirits into this realm is literally what necromancers do."

"Not supernatural spirits." Said Derek. "Modern Christianity may not believe human spirits can come back to this world in another form, but they can. You know, reincarnation. From what I’ve gathered from the research, that’s why necromancers can bring humans back to life, so to speak. Human spirits already cross back and forth between Earth and the Afterlife, so necromancers are able to prematurely pull them out of the Afterlife and put them back in their body. It’s unnatural, which is why those people are generally pretty messed up, and it can’t last long, but it’s doable.

“Supernatural spirits,” he continued, “can’t do that. We’re a one time deal. The born ones anyway. We’re energetically expensive, I suppose you could say. Whatever Being created us put more into the process to enable us to have the abilities that we do. But because so much energy goes into creating our souls at the beginning, it takes too much energy to keep it together once our body decays.”

“Hold up. How do you know all this?” Stiles looked almost scandalized, like he couldn’t believe Derek had volunteered all of that information on his own.

“It’s standard werewolf lore. Or supernatural lore, I guess. Any supernatural who comes from supernatural lineage learns this lore like bedtime stories.” His voice became shy as he realized he was freely offering information about his childhood. “It’s not something we share lightly.” He added softly. 

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with Stiles.” Scott seemed to recognize that Derek was trying to move the conversation along.

“I may be able to help with that.” Deaton was fingering the drawing of the symbol Lydia had drawn on the whiteboard. “This symbol represents the components of the Afterlife, Heaven and Hell I suppose, meeting at Limbo, the plain in between. Limbo is tightly connected to Bardo, where the Nemeton sent Stiles when the Darach was attacking. We already know that Stiles was vulnerable to spirits after that.” He didn’t need to continue with that thought process. Derek heard Stiles’ heart rate soar. 

Lydia carried the train of logic. “So you’re saying that because Stiles is more open to different spirit plains, the necromancer turned him into a portal so that supernatural spirits had something to come through.”

“Essentially. She’s easing the burden of crossing into this plane so that she can put more energy into pulling the spirits back together. And that symbol is like a wedge, pushing that hole in Stiles’ mind open. I’m assuming that she told him he should be afraid to sleep because of what we found in the stories about dreams. When people who are that connected to Limbo are dreaming, they’re actually going to Bardo and seeing the things that exist there.”

“And that’s why Lydia can see the symbol when none of you can.” Stiles finished. “Because her senses are attuned to recognize death.” Deaton nodded in affirmation.

“So we just need to keep Stiles from dreaming.” Derek finished. “But how do we know?” 

“I can’t say for sure. Given what we’ve figured out, this process will let off a huge amount of energy. That shouldn’t go unnoticed.”

“But this is still one big guessing game isn’t it?” The frantic edge had returned to Stiles’ voice, no matter how hard he was trying to press it down. “We still don’t really know exactly what her game is, though it has something to do with taking over Beacon Hills, and we still don’t even know exactly how this actually works. What the spirits do when they come through?” ‘Do to me,’ hung on the end as an unspoken implication. 

Deaton sighed. He really had no answer for that and they all knew it. “Stiles I’m sorry. But trying to keep you from dreaming is about the best we can do until we can find out more. We’ll keep trying to figure this out. I’ll take a weekend trip to some people who might be able to give us some information on this particular necromancer.”

“So how are we going to keep me from dreaming?” Stiles had officially closed off, trying to distance himself from the situation. 

“Derek will stay with you.” Scott said without missing a beat, and Derek looked up sharply, baffled. 

“He’s the only one who doesn’t live with parents and he doesn’t have a job. He can sleep during the day and watch you at night.” Scott looked at Derek kindly, but firmly. He knew he was right and was daring Derek to argue, which didn’t seem worth it to him. Unless Derek had missed something, Scott still knew Stiles better than anyone, except maybe Lydia, so if Scott thought he was the right choice than he was. He nodded.

“Alright big guy, let’s go.” Stiles grabbed his bottle of Adderall and clapped Derek on the back as he walked past. “Time to explain to the Sheriff why you’ll be creeping over his only son while he sleeps.” 

They drove Liam and Hayden home and then headed to the Stilinski’s. ‘This ought to be fun.’ Derek thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize not a lot of Sterek happened here, but I couldn't go on without a little TW style research and I wanted to establish some pack dynamics. We'll get more Sterek feels soon, at least on Derek's front. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Figuring It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued interest! Sorry if this chapter hits a little close to home for anyone still following the series on TV, but I needed to get into Stiles' head a little more after being in Derek's so much.

Turning into the drive, Stiles groaned, spreading his fingers over his face as though he could will his father to sleep.

“What am I supposed to tell him?” He exclaimed, gesticulating wildly.

Leaning out of the way, Derek looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “The truth?” He said as though it were a no brainer.

“Oh yeah, okay, of course. ‘Hey Dad! Sorry to wake you up at three in the morning. Just had to let you know Derek is going to be my indefinite roommate ‘cuz a crazy necromancer cursed me and if I sleep through my dreams I’m going to unleash a supernatural storm on Beacon Hills. Go on back to bed now!’” He looked at Derek incredulously.

“Basically.”

“You know. I thought your social skills had gotten better while you were gone, but I guess you were just having an unusually solid moment.”

“They are better.” Derek replied before looking down at his lap, suddenly feeling incredibly bashful. He hadn’t realized how different he was acting, compared to how he was before he left, but being back in the same space as Stiles he was reminded that the human didn’t miss a thing. “A lot can change in two years.”

 Stiles gave him a considering look for several moments longer than was comfortable before springing out of the car so suddenly Derek almost shifted in surprise. He leaned against the doorframe, looking back in at Derek with an affectionately skeptical look on his face. “Okay dude. Come and show me your new skills.”

“Aren’t you explaining what happened?” Emphasis on the you.

“Well, I’ll start, yeah. But you’re the one I’m trusting to sit by my sleeping self and keep me safe, and you haven’t exactly been a presence, so…”

“Yeah, yeah. Absentee Derek has to convince the young boy’s father that he’s worthy of his trust.”

“Not a young boy!” Stiles couldn’t place the feeling, but he was growing incredibly exasperated that Derek insisted upon thinking he was still a child. He decided to tell himself it actually was because he hadn’t been there for his birthday. “But yeah, that’s the idea. Go get ‘im, tiger.” He swore he heard a growl as he walked away towards the house and he smirked.

The Sheriff was standing in the living room when Stiles opened the door, arms folded with an expectant expression on his features. The corners of his mouth turned down and the crease between his brows deepened when Derek stepped stiffly in behind Stiles.

“Agh, Stiles! You’ve literally been home for a DAY and already the Sourwolf is in my house.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the nickname only Stiles had ever called him. “Why does he know about that?”

Stiles face pinked a little when he saw the look on Derek’s face. “I may have mentioned it once. Or twice.” He confessed. ‘Oh my god I’m never going to live this down with either of them. Why do I talk about him so much? Why is my father evil?’ Embarrassed thoughts raced through his mind at a mile a minute, until his father loudly cleared his throat to bring him back to the present.

“You gonna answer my question, Stiles?”

“Oh, right! You should, uh, definitely sit down dad. Maybe you’d like some Jack.”

“It’s three in the morning, kid.” The Sheriff said dubiously, though he complied with the first order, setting himself down in his armchair with a ‘plop’.

Stiles and Derek sat down on the couch opposite him. Stiles immediately setting his legs to jiggling up and down and Derek clamping his hands to his unmoving knees, the jitteriness of the former almost cartoonish in comparison to the latter’s stillness.

“So uh this necromancer came to town while I was at Derek’s loft, and uh she turned me into some kind of portal for supernatural spirits to come through while I dream, so Derek’s going to sit in my room while I sleep and wake me up when I start going all portal-y.” He finished by dragging in a long-overdue breath and then looked rapidly between his father who looked like he’d just eaten a lemon, and Derek who was giving him a look that implied ‘and you said I don’t have any social skills?’

“I’m going to pretend that none of the supernatural garbage you just spouted isn’t going to terrify me until you kids resolve it, and just ask what were you doing at Derek’s place?” John had that look on his face that conveyed he didn’t really want to know, but he knew he should know.

Derek’s insides squirmed as he understood what the Sheriff was implying, and he fought to keep the color out of his cheeks.

“Oh my god, Dad! Do you really have to ask stuff like that?” His arm almost met Derek’s throat, and he barely fought through his embarrassment fast enough to bat it away. “Besides I’m almost 20, so you wouldn’t even get an arrest out it!” Derek looked at Stiles in bewilderment. That was not the response he had expected. Stiles heart was beating incredibly quickly, and the Sheriff’s hadn’t missed a beat. Whatever the Sheriff thought about them or his son’s sexuality apparently didn’t surprise or concern him in the least and Derek didn’t know how that knowledge made him feel.

“Just had to check kiddo.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Not that Derek wouldn’t already be familiar with my cuffs.” He sent a warning look in the wolf’s direction that made his spine tighten. Derek was reminded of the many times the Sheriff had pursued him with a vengeance. “You take care of my son.”

Stiles swallowed thickly as he glanced between his father and the wolf. The tension between them was so palpable he couldn’t believe it was simply because of the curse, but he couldn’t find anything in their combined history that would cause it, so he just sat there dumbly for many moments before asking, "Am I missing something?"

It was enough to the cut the tension and his father chuckled. "Stiles, I'm never really sure what you catch and what you miss." He checked his watch then. "But it is officially time to go to sleep. Just be careful, you two, please."

Derek watched as he disappeared up the stairs, painfully aware of Stiles' presence next to him, almost touching but not quite. He smelled like confusion and anxiety and guilt and Derek couldn't stand it because he couldn't tell if it was directed at him. He stood quickly and gestured for Stiles to lead the way.

In his room, Stiles didn't know how to proceed. He was scared to sleep, didn't know where to put Derek, and wasn't sure what clothes he was going to sleep in, so of course he resorted to his humor to move the awkwardness along.

"I really got us through that with my impressive skills, huh? Easy breezy.” Stiles was still looking like a kid who couldn’t figure out if he’d put his shoes on right, so Derek decided to play along to ease his burden.

“I should’ve been taking notes.”

Stiles looked up sharply, fixing him with a stare that made Derek’s insides squirm with how searching it was. “Wow, jokes from the Sourwolf. I really did fuck up.”

‘Dammit.’ Derek thought playing along with the human would get him to ease up. Should have realized that isn’t something he ever would have done before. He had always felt compelled to take care of Stiles, but showing kindness wasn't something he'd been well equipped for before he'd left. He had always hidden it behind a scowl or judging glare.

Stiles looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Derek sighed. How was he supposed to get out this? “You’ve just been cursed, Stiles.”

“Yeah, but you were being nice to me before that.”

“A lot can change in two years, Stiles.” He repeated the line from earlier in the car. He wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by it, but he knew the way he saw Stiles had changed while he was away. He hoped Stiles would eventually understand just how much could change. “You’ve changed too.”

Stiles didn’t reply to that, likely understanding how true it was. Instead he drifted over to sit on his bed and hugged his knees against his chest. “I’m scared.” It wasn’t something he ever would have admitted to Derek before, even though he always knew Derek would be able to tell what he was feeling anyway. Whatever this new dynamic between them was, putting words to the feelings he knew Derek could smell seemed appropriate, like he was acknowledging that the man was more than simply a wolf to him.

“I know.” Derek knew that wasn’t an adequate response. “But I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe.” He should have said ‘to keep Beacon Hills safe,’ but he knew Beacon Hills didn’t matter to him as much as Stiles did. “Even if this portal does open, I’m going to make sure you come out of it alive.”

Stiles just looked at him, a lost expression in his eyes. He stood then and went to brush his teeth and put pajamas on. He looked at himself in the mirror and realized how much he had changed during Derek’s absence. He no longer wore more than boxers to bed, and wearing pajamas again for the wolf’s comfort felt foreign to him. His longer hair was an obvious change, but as he looked at it pulled back he realized how much sharper his face and his eyes had become since junior year. The Nogitsune had certainly brought unwanted darkness into his heart, but it was the effects of Theo and Lydia in Eichen House, compounded by Derek’s absence, that had brought the darkness back to stay.

Though he had gotten into UC-Davis along with Scott, he had chosen to attend Stanford with Lydia instead. Scott probably couldn’t detect a lie when he had said the financial aid was better and he would be a fool to turn down Stanford, but down deep he was pretty sure they both knew that Stiles needed time to be away from him. Time to develop himself as a person without Scott, so that his wounds didn’t have to be reopened so badly if something like Donovan ever happened again.

Climbing under his blankets he felt strangely comforted seeing Derek sit so casually in his desk chair. “Night, Miguel.”

“Not your cousin.” The wolf responded gruffly, though barely suppressing a chuckle. “I’ll be right here.” he responded more softly. Stiles recognized affection in his tone, and he was surprised to find himself thinking how well it suited Derek.

“I know you will.” And he drifted off.

~~~~~~~~

Derek sat in Stiles’ desk chair, careful to not let his thoughts or eyes wander too far from him, not knowing what he was waiting for. As the first hour passed though, he couldn’t help it as his thoughts travelled to the bizarre conversation with Sheriff Stilinski, who seemed to know far more about him than he could have gotten from police records. Stiles likely used to refer to him as Sourwolf when talking about pack business with his dad. God knows Derek wouldn’t indulge him by allowing the name in his actual presence. But then again, the tension after the Sheriff had joked, or maybe not joked, about them being more than friends at the loft implied that maybe he knew more about his relationship with Stiles than he himself knew.

As far as he was concerned, Stiles was straight as the arrows Allison once shot him with and probably had a girlfriend back at school (Stanford by the looks of his pajama shirt) that he had charmed with his scruffy new hair and razor-sharp intelligence. He wasn't completely sure if the thought of Stiles dating someone bothered him or not. It never had before.

 Just as he was coming to these private conclusions, the air in the room became so heavy he felt like he was sinking in it. Stiles began tossing and turning, his placid face suddenly tightening in anxiety and fear. Derek was struggling to react fast enough, the heavy air seeming to infect his limbs and make his thoughts torpid. The air around Stiles began to shimmer, as though his body were vibrating too quickly for even Derek’s eyes to process the motion properly. After what felt like eternity, Derek managed to get his thoughts to words and actions and he was shaking Stiles roughly, yelling at him to wake up.

The Shimmer abruptly subsided as Stiles jolted upright, screaming. The air returned to normal and, regaining proper control of his limbs, Derek grabbed at Stiles' shoulders and stared him down with his blue wolf eyes. "Stiles, breathe!" It had worked in the woods and it worked now. The screaming stopped and Stiles inhaled short, rough breaths of air that gradually smoothed out. Derek didn't loosen his hold until Stiles was looking at him with his big, frightened doe eyes and said, "I never want that to happen again." Derek sat there, cross legged across from Stiles, neither of them speaking or moving until Stiles' alarm went off half an hour later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Fond Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting the pack back into the picture. I hope any of you Dethan fans catch the reference :)

The aggressive ringing of Stiles’ alarm pulled them both out of the cloud of strange stillness that had been plaguing them since Derek had shaken him awake. The wolf realized it was the most inactivity he had probably ever experienced from Stiles and he felt responsible for dispelling it. 

“So, why don’t we get some breakfast?” He started, pushing himself up from the bed. 

Stiles looked up with a bewildered expression on his features, as though the idea that they would eventually have to get up had not yet occurred to him. “Oh yeah, okay. And I’ll show you how I make my coffee now, so you never make that sugary monstrosity from last night ever again.” He poked Derek aggressively in the abs for emphasis, before pulling back harshly and rubbing his sore finger. “Jesus, how is that-I wasn’t aware it was possible to get that jacked.” 

He felt the flush rise on his cheeks at the compliment, and he turned away from Stiles quickly, which would have helped if it wasn’t spreading down the back of his neck as well, so he turned back to face him. Stiles was pretending not to notice, but Derek could smell the confusion on him as he turned towards his door and spoke. “How about breakfast, huh?”

Stiles kept his attention staunchly directed towards the kitchen as he thought back on all the awkward moments that has plagued the two of them in not even a 24-hour span of time. First, falling apart at his apartment and Derek hugging him, the Sourwolf thing, then his father implying that they had something else going on, and now Derek blushing. Why would Derek be blushing about the weird things Stiles said on a regular basis? Why did all their interactions suddenly feel so much more meaningful?

He was paying exquisite attention to measuring out the right amount of coffee to make a pot when Derek finally appeared in the doorway, clearly his throat unnecessarily loudly. He had obviously been trying to prevent Stiles from getting startled but he was still strung so tight over his confusion that his arms flailed extra-excitedly and he knocked the coffee pot full of water off the counter. Derek had clearly been prepared that his warning may not be enough, and he lunged out gracefully and with speed not even Scott had ever quite accomplished, catching the pot before it shattered on the tile.  
“Thank God for your wolfy powers. My dad would have had a conniption after last night.” His voice sounded calm enough, but Derek could still see the anxious storm poorly concealed under his goofy-kid mask. Stiles set the coffee to brewing and then turned slowly back to face Derek, a stormy expression of a totally different nature coloring his features this time. “So, what was it like?”

Derek wanted to say ‘Terrifying. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to reach you. I thought my lungs were going to explode. I thought you were going to shake to pieces.’ But Stiles was already freaked out enough as it was, so he tried to answer as clinically as he could. “Uh, well you were just sleeping normally and then it was like the air in the room got really heavy and thick, like I was trapped in molasses. Then you started getting a little restless, like people do when they have nightmares I guess, and I knew I needed to wake you up, but…” He trailed off, not sure how to phrase the next part as neutrally as possible. 

Stiles, noting his hesitation, pressed. “What, Derek? I’m a big boy.”

“It felt like I couldn’t get to you. Like the air was too thick and I couldn’t think fast enough. I’m not- I’m not sure I could have gotten to you on time if I was a normal human. I think I needed the werewolf strength to push through whatever was keeping me from you.” 

“Well thank God Scott didn’t put Mason on dream-duty then.” Derek rolled his eyes, pressing forward.

“And then you started vibrating or something. Whatever it was it caused this-this Shimmer I guess around you, like the space around you was falling apart. And then I managed to finally reach you and wake you up.”

Stiles just stared at his coffee, a sprinkle of cinnamon and a little cream Derek had noted, thinking about that for a few moments. “Well I guess we ought to call a meeting, huh? Tell the rest of the pack that we know how it works, try to figure out a gameplan from here, etc etc.” Derek nodded. “Well alright. I’ll send out a text. 7 at the loft work for you?” Another nod. “Great. That leaves you time to get some sleep then.”

Derek hesitated, his hand pausing as it brought the piece of toast Stiles had made him up to his mouth. “We’re talking about-”

“No, no we are not getting into that right now.” Stiles interrupted, knowing full well Derek wanted to continue the aborted conversation from the day before. 

“Stiles, I need to understand what has happened with this pack before we have a pack meeting. I didn’t accept Scott’s offer intending to be the same kind of pack member I was before.”

Recognition seemed to flicker on Stiles’ face, as though he was finally starting to understand Derek’s motivations. “What do you mean?” Derek sighed. Maybe not.

“Back then, before I evolved, I was peripheral. Even when I was an alpha I was almost completely inconsequential.” His brows pinched together, as though admitting this out loud physically pained him. Knowing Derek, it probably did. “Everything I ever did trying to protect this place that my family has protected for decades was a failure.”

Stiles whipped his head up at that, pinning Derek down with a scandalized expression. “Now hold on a minute. You have never failed Beacon Hills. Sure a ton of your attempts were sorely misguided and regularly excessively violent. And yeah, you probably never got to be the one to ultimately save the day, but I don’t think I can count on all my fingers and toes the times you’ve saved our asses.” Stiles looked down suddenly, and seeming to realize his own intensity spoke again more quietly. “You’ve hardly ever been peripheral.” 

Derek’s eyes widened a little at the earnest scent Stiles gave off at the confession, and realization dawned on him. “You asked Scott to invite me into the pack didn’t you?”

“We were a complete mess without you. Everything was a disaster and it wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t left.” Stiles wouldn’t meet his gaze, and Derek now understood the hardness that had been in his eyes when he had shown up at the loft the day prior. 

“Stiles, I’m sorry. I thought there was an understanding about me leaving.”

Stiles smiled to himself, letting out a huff of laughter. “You're always so quick to blame yourself, you know that? I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. You’re allowed to live your life, and you deserve to get to do it how you want. It’s just I didn’t realize how much we needed you.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important that Derek understand that he mattered, but it was very clear to him that Derek needed to know just what he had done for them. “Look. Before you left, when Scott was first dealing with turning Liam you told him he was going to be good at all this stuff, and I think he sort of thought that it would just sort of work out. Then this kid, Theo, infiltrated the pack, messed with everyone’s heads, and Scott just sort of fell apart. You think you failed at being an alpha, but Scott really did. He didn’t trust any of the people he should have, and trusted everyone he shouldn’t have. He’s getting better, now that he knows what can happen, but he and I-” Stiles broke off, his heart speeding up as he brought up the painful memories.

“You haven’t been the same.” Derek finished. “So him trusting me is really him trusting you.” 

Derek had always understood him so well-always known what he was thinking and why. Standing here now, he didn't know why he and Derek weren't closer, but he had a feeling that it was his fault. All of a sudden he was wondering if he still had a chance to fix that. He cleared his throat. 

"You should get some sleep now." He didn't want to talk about it anymore, even though he knew he owed Derek a lot more. "You can sleep in my room." 

Derek narrowed his eyes at that. The idea of sleeping in Stiles' bed was simultaneously welcoming and terrifying. He was used to Stiles' scent, but the thought of being surrounded with it implied a level of intimacy between them that didn't exist in reality. "I should just head back to the loft."

"Uh-uh. You've been yawning since I poured my coffee and you haven't slept in a day. You may have special werewolf healing, but I've known Scott long enough to know that sleep deprivation affects you the the same as humans and the drive to the loft is too long. You'll sleep in my room and I'll just do whatever research I can on this Shimmer."

Derek would have tried to protest again, but he couldn’t through the massive yawn that came out instead, so he just fixed his best Sourwolf glower on Stiles and stalked up to his bedroom. When he arrived he stood an awkward few feet from the bed and stared at it helplessly. 

“Oh my god, what now?” 

“I didn’t bring anything to change into.” It was a last ditch effort to get out of this situation without hurting Stiles’ feelings, which was apparently something he was trying very hard not to do anymore. 

“Don’t you, like, sleep naked anyway?” Derek doesn’t want to know how he knows that. If Erica was still alive, he would have blamed her. It had probably been her anyway, long ago when she had been trying to get on Stiles’ good side. “Just sleep in your underwear, I don’t care.”

Stiles couldn’t suppress a private smile at the irony of that confession, given that just last night he had opted for clothing himself for Derek’s sake. He wasn’t exactly prepared for it, however, when Derek tentatively started pulling his red Henley (when did he start wearing bright colors? what?) over his head. Though it had always seemed like Derek’s default state-of-being was shirtless, Stiles suddenly felt like he was invading Derek’s privacy and he turned away until he heard Derek slip beneath his sheets. 

Derek was trying to figure out what the smell Stiles was giving off meant, but the sudden proximity to his pillow as he lay down suddenly blocked out anything Stiles could give off, and Derek was temporarily overwhelmed. He knew what Stiles smelled like in a lot of different situations. He knew what he smelled like when he was abjectly terrified, when he was happy, when he was sad, but the scent that filled his pillow was vastly different. It was pure, unadulterated Stiles, unaffected by emotions or other people, and it was better than anything Derek had been prepared for. A combination of the cinnamon Stiles had taken a liking to, newspaper, and Adderall, which was less surprising. Derek fell asleep picturing Stiles reading the newspaper on a lazy Saturday, drinking coffee spiked with cinnamon and occasionally licking his lips out of nervous habit.  
~~~~~~~~

Stiles sat at his desk, using as many databases as his Stanford student ID gave him access to, but he really didn’t know what to look up. ‘Shimmer’ was what Derek had decided to call it, but it was clearly not what anyone who had potentially ever experienced this before had called it because searching it pretty much only brought up criticisms of ‘Fringe.’ 

Remembering the concept of alternate universes from one of his favorite shows, however, got Stiles’ mind working a little. He pursued the train of thought and ended up forming a solid theory that may or may not actually lead anywhere, but it was at least something he could bring up at the pack meeting and ask Deaton about. Lydia and her math abilities might even prove useful on this one, he thought. 

Derek woke up around 4, to the sunlight pounding down on him from between the slats of the blinds. Stiles was not in the house as far as he could tell, but a note on his desk announced that he was out on a run and would be home in time to make them some dinner before the meeting. Derek’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded approvingly to himself as he read the note. Running had always been one of Stiles’ stronger physical abilities, managing to keep pace decently well with the werewolves if they were being chased. He would never achieve real wolf speed, but Derek was glad to know that he had decided to pursue an athletic hobby he was better at than lacrosse. 

Looking around the room now, Derek could see remnants of Stiles’ life as it had proceeded in his absence. Books littered his shelves covering topics ranging from Greek mythology to mythologies of various African countries, military tactics, crime scene investigation, and even J.K. Rowling’s “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.” As he perused the shelves further, Derek found two books on PTSD and felt his stomach wrench at the thought of Stiles trying to deal with that horror on his own. 

Sitting on his dresser was a 3rd place trophy for the 2000m at the championship track meet Stanford attended every year. Various ribbons hung off the crooked arm of the little bronze figure running at the top of the trophy. Derek couldn’t help the small, proud smile that crept up his cheeks as he pictured Stiles racing around the track, passing the candidates from numerous other schools around California.  
~~~~~~~~

Stiles entered the house quietly, not wanting to wake Derek if he hadn’t already done so himself. He slipped up the stairs carefully, skipping the creaky steps in a well memorized pattern from years of trying to get past his watchful father. When he got to his open door, however, he saw Derek from behind, looking at his track awards. The smile he could see reflected back at him by his dresser mirror was one of the softest expressions he had ever seen on the wolf’s face, and it made him light-headed to think he had caused it. It then dawned on him that Derek was apparently unaware that he was even in the house, not to mention watching him, and fond feelings welled up in him at the possibility that he was the cause of such distraction. 

Those same fond feelings were apparently quite pungent because suddenly Derek’s nostrils flared briefly and he turned, trying to hide the surprise on his face when he saw Stiles in the doorway. “Oh, hi. Good run?”

Stiles cleared his throat, not entirely sure what he was feeling and hoping desperately he could pull off neutral. “Yeah, yeah. There’s a good trail around the preserve. I’m sure you know.”

The surprised expression returned to his features. The preserve trail was long, and Stiles didn’t even seem tired, despite the fact that he could already tell from the air conditioned house that it was a hot day. “You really found something you’re good at, didn’t you?”

“Running? Yeah.” Stiles gestured up at the trophies Derek had been appreciating. “I tried sprinting for a hot second, because that’s all you do in lacrosse and I was good, but it’s over too soon and I usually ended up with more uncomfortable energy than I started with.” He paused for a second, debating if he wanted to share this much with Derek so soon. He ignored the voice telling him that he hadn’t even told Lydia yet. “Ms. Morell told me one time that if you’re going through hell, keep going. My nightmares got really bad again part-way through senior year. I was always being chased, but woke up every time before I could actually get away, so I talked to Deaton about it, and he suggested kind of the same thing as she had. Maybe if I couldn’t get away in my dreams, I should try outrunning them in real life. So I started running along all the places I’d ever been chased in my dreams, but instead of stopping where I had been when I woke up, I kept running, creating scenarios in my head where I actually managed to get away. The nightmares didn’t exactly stop, but they became more manageable and I slept better because I was tiring myself out in a healthy way for once.”

“I had no idea it was so bad for you Stiles.” Derek was struggling to meet his eyes. Beacon Hills had been too hard for Derek to tolerate any longer, and he had convinced himself the pack would be okay without him. The more Stiles told him about that year, the more he realized it had been wrong of him to not at least keep in touch.

“Stop blaming yourself, Sourwolf. I’m gonna get a shower in then we can head out.”  
~~~~~~~~

An hour later they were in the loft and Derek was getting a shower himself and Stiles was ordering pizza for the meeting. Derek was finishing up getting dressed when Lydia and Malia showed up, followed promptly by Mason, Brett, and Ethan. Pizza arrived briefly before the rest of the pack showed up and everyone dug in, talking casually about their days before getting down to business.  
Derek explained with as much detached and precise detail as he had given Stiles that morning. When he was done and before anyone could ask questions Stiles knew they didn’t have the answer to, he picked up where Derek left off with his research. 

“So I did some research on this Shimmer or whatever, and as expected, not a ton came up. It did, however, bring up a crap ton of references and articles written about ‘Fringe’.”

“Excuse me, ‘Fringe?’ Like the Sci-fi show?” Many years ago it would have excited him that Lydia got the geeky reference, but right now her skeptical tone irritated him.

“Just hear me out alright? In the show, objects or people who have crossed between alternate universes have this Shimmer that can only be seen by people with enhanced perception. If I understood what I read right, which I’m pretty confident I did, the two different universes vibrate at two different frequencies, and you can transport things or people from one to the other using the other universe’s frequency.”

“So you’re thinking Limbo and Earth might be kept separate like that? Tuned to different frequencies?” Mason was so blessedly open to different ideas. “Is there a way to test that?”

Stiles hadn’t got that far, and he just shrugged a little sheepishly. 

“Well, I don’t know if any of us would know how, but if you all are okay with it, I bet Danny could help.” Ethan usually didn’t contribute much to pack meetings. Stiles was convinced it was because he always felt out of place, but everyone seemed to have different theories about what Ethan actually got out of being in the pack. “He’s been studying physics and computer science at MIT. He found a professor who would help him continue his research on Tellurian currents and you guys know how closely those are related to frequency. He stayed a little longer to watch a teammate graduate, but he’ll be back in two days.”

Scott looked confused for a moment, his brows furrowed. “When did you two get back together?” 

Ethan shrugged, clearly trying to be casual despite the besotted grin threatening to give way. “Winter break.” He ducked his head to hide his blush. “He missed me.”

Stiles couldn’t suppress a happy chuckle and he clapped Ethan on the shoulder heartily. “Good for you man.” A little taken aback by the unexpected display of friendly feelings towards the ex-alpha, he quickly moved back to the matter at hand. “Alright, we can catch up more later, but let’s try and figure out how we want to move forward first.”

“Well, let’s have Ethan fill Danny in on the situation so he can try to brainstorm a bit before he gets back. Until then, Deaton gets back tomorrow so I’ll go and talk to him about your theory when I have my shift. See if he has any ideas. Malia, Liam, and Hayden why don’t you three go back out to the Nemeton with Parrish tomorrow when he gets off his shift. See if you can trace her scent anywhere. Lydia, since your whole deal is being able to hear this stuff, why don’t you sit with Derek tonight. If it happens, see if you can identify a different frequency, or voices or anything. ”

“And us?” Mason indicated between himself, Kira, and Brett. 

“I can’t think of anything else right now, so you guys just relax. We don’t know what we might be facing eventually, so take a break when you get it.” He looked around and no one seemed to have an issue with their assignment. “Game time?” Everyone nodded enthusiastically. 

Derek smiled to himself. Scott certainly was doing a better job with the delegating and trusting since he last saw him. And the advent of game nights filled him with memories of his family that surprisingly didn’t make him sad. Stiles dug some well worn decks of cards out of a drawer that had definitely not been there when he had left two years ago. 

When Stiles saw the judging look the wolf was giving him, he just shrugged. “I had a lot of loud thoughts, and solitaire in this place was relaxing.” Derek didn’t press. 

Hayden had to leave for an evening shift at the coffee shop she worked at, so the large group paired off and played Go Fish with a combo deck. Derek was a little surprised when Stiles paired with him, but again didn’t say anything. The game proved to be more of a social lubricant than anything else, meant to help the pack chat with each other about normal young adult things. Derek was 25 now and didn’t really know how to help on that front. 

After getting basic things like part-time jobs and internships out of the way, dating and relationships came up and Derek started paying more attention again. Mason and Brett were still both single, claiming no one seemed interested. Liam was convinced it was because the entire school thought they were dating and they never bothered clearing the air. The two were incredibly comfortable with each other, but it was clear to Derek that they had nothing but brotherly feelings for each other, almost exactly like Scott and Stiles when they were in high school. Scott and Kira were still going strong apparently, as were Liam and Hayden. Lydia had chosen to not see anyone her freshman year, so her life was pretty unexciting, while Malia revealed that she was dating a girl she had met in one of her study groups. 

Mason started chuckling, “Man, when did this little pack get so gay?” 

‘He has no idea.’ Derek ducked his head, hoping to hide the faint flush on his cheeks, but given the keen looks from Brett, Ethan, and Lydia, he didn’t succeed too well. 

“Alright Stiles, your turn.” Scott broached shyly. Derek was shocked that Scott apparently didn’t know even that much about Stiles anymore. They really had fallen away from each other.

“Oh, well, uh. Nothing going on on that front.” A few mouths fell. “What? That can’t be that surprising.”

“The only reason you’d still be single after this long is if you weren’t trying.” Malia said bluntly. 

Stiles flushed embarrassedly. “I guess I just haven’t been feeling it.” The truth was he had barely ever felt it. Sure he'd had sex with Malia, but when he thought back on those moments now and again, he realized it had been more because he had thought he should want it, not that he actually did. Sleeping with her had gotten easier the closer they'd gotten, but he had never been the one to instigate it. Any attraction he'd ever felt towards Lydia had disappeared the moment he truly got to know her, though Stiles had never been brave enough to tell her that.

The night came to an end when Stiles’ yawning became un-ignorable and Derek decided it was time to head back to the Stilinski’s. He ushered the human into his Camaro, dumped his duffle with supplies Stiles had suggested he pack in case he ended up sleeping over the next day again, and Lydia followed out behind them. Derek looked over the half-asleep form in the passenger seat and flushed as he pictured his toothbrush next to Stiles and their clothes (and scents) getting mixed together in the wash. He was becoming undeniably domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will finally see a little more action dealing with the necromancer.
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, this chapter is where the canon-typical violence starts. It's not super detailed but I surrounded that part with asterisks and included a non-detailed summary of what happened in the end of chapter notes, just in case you feel like you need to skip over it.

Stiles had fallen sound asleep almost immediately, but Lydia still waited a few minutes to speak.

“So, Derek, when did you start liking-” “Men?” He provided helpfully for her before she could finish the sentence he knew she was trying to ask.

She gave him an indulgent smile. “Sure, Derek. Let’s go with that.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He had no idea why he had supplied her with that particular alternative because his answer for it was horrible. “I don’t.”

“So let’s try that again. How long have you liked Stiles?”

“Why do you have to know so much?” The wolf grumbled under his breath, before figuring he might as well try answering. “Honestly, I don’t exactly know. If I really think about it, I’ve probably always thought about him a little differently than Scott. Once we got past the whole ‘them trying to get me arrested bit,’ I think I started thinking of Scott as a bit of a replacement little brother, for all my younger relatives I never got to help with the shift. Back then, Stiles was kind of the best friend I had to tolerate because he was around. I thought he was in over his head and cocky because he couldn’t recognize that.”

“But?” Lydia pushed.

“He ended up getting it better than Scott. He was really good at all of it, and he took so much abuse, and he kept up. I think at some point I decided to try and keep him at arm’s length because I had so many human family members who were killed just by association and I didn’t want that to be Stiles’ life, but he just kept pushing his way in.” He paused trying to think of how to phrase it. He wasn’t accustomed to saying so much at one time, but he knew if he didn’t talk on his own, Lydia would ask questions that he maybe didn’t want to answer. “I tried chalking up how much I worried about him to him being human, and that I would do the same about Scott if it was the other way around, but then I went away with Cora after the Darach and I didn’t just worry about him. I missed him. So I came back just so I could be around you know? But then he got possessed and...” he broke off.

Lydia smiled at him understandingly. “And then he started being with Malia.” Derek winced. “And you decided to move on with Braeden.” She finished quickly. She couldn’t deny that she hadn’t started having some feelings for Stiles herself their junior year and thinking about his rushed relationship with Malia still made her uncomfortable, even if she had moved on. 

“When I came back to Beacon Hills this time, I thought I had gotten past those feelings. That I could just acknowledge he had been a special part of my past and we could just continue being friends and it would be easier for me. But then I got to my loft and he had been there so often, and so recently and he had touched everything and worn my sweaters and eaten off my plates and slept in my bed and it wasn’t painful or irritating or weird. It felt like it belonged that way. It felt like it was obvious that the loft should smell more like him than anyone else, because I wanted it that way.”

Lydia looked at him thoughtfully for several more moments than he was comfortable with before finally speaking. “You’ve got a much better handle on yourself as a person than you did back then. I mean, you had become a pretty fully functional human by the time we had to deal with the dead pool, but you’ve really figured yourself out.”

“Um, thanks.” Derek didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I’m not saying you have to tell him, but I think you should consider it. Given how scared he is right now, he was surprisingly relaxed at the pack meeting, and considering how strongly he gravitated toward you at the loft, I’d say he has some special feelings for you too.” She paused and pursed her lips. “Though, Stilinski is an emotional moron so he probably hasn’t put two and two together. Give him some time. Push him a little.” 

Derek looked pathetically confused at the last bit, and she chuckled softly at him. “Drop some hints. Be gentler with him than you used to be. Smile at him. Be a little more tactile. You don’t touch anyone else in the pack and if you touch him, even in the most subtle ways, he’ll start to get it."

"Is it even worth it though? We have a good friendship right now. I don’t even know if he likes men?"

She gave him a look conveying he was testing her patience. "You said yourself you don't like men, but you like him. Maybe he does it for you, and you do it for him and that's all you need." 

They fell silent for a while. "Could you tell me what happened? Your senior year." 

She winced visibly, which was discomforting because it was not easy to make Lydia Martin show she was upset. The muscles in her jaw flexed and relaxed several times and he could see her considering her choices. 

"No." She finally announced, and he thought that was all he was going to get before she continued haltingly. "Senior year was traumatic and confusing and everyone has a different version of what happened. I know you'll believe him in the end, but Stiles deserves for you to hear the story from him first without having to sift through the filters of someone else's story."

Derek nodded and the silence that descended was final this time.

They sat and watched Stiles for a few more hours before again the air turned heavy. After a moment of terror flickered over her face, Lydia set herself to listening to the sound of the Shimmer gradually setting in around Stiles as Derek pushed through the viscous air towards him. The human's breathing was growing ragged as though he were in pain when Derek finally managed to shake him awake. Just as Stiles' eyelids shot open, the room was filled with both his and Lydia's screaming. 

Derek thumbed at his neck soothingly as Stiles rocked back and forth, shivering violently. The Sheriff appeared in the doorway moments later, horror in his eyes as he stared between his son and Derek first, and then determining they were well enough, turning his attention to Lydia. Her ears were bleeding and she looked wrecked. 

Rushing over to her, the Sheriff was immediately looking into her eyes and checking her pulse. “You okay, Lydia? Can you hear me?”

She seemed to take a moment to register he was there, let alone speaking to her, when finally her eyes settled on his face. “Sheriff?” He nodded at her. “I need… go... hospital.” Her voice sounded distant, like her mind still hadn’t quite caught up, and it seemed as though she was having trouble picking her words. The wolf reached out to touch her wrist and immediately pulled away, as though he’d been burned.

“Shit. She’s in so much pain.” Derek reached out again, this time towards her temple. When his fingers met her skin she cried out. “Sheriff she needs to be at the hospital right now.”

“You two stay here.”

Stiles jumped up, “What? No, Dad. This is Lydia. I’m going.” He jumped out of bed and stuffed himself awkwardly into a pair of running shorts and sneakers. “Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, thanks to the Sheriff’s lights, they arrived at the emergency room. Thankfully Melissa was on duty, and Stiles had called her ahead of time to be ready. Stiles and Derek sat in the waiting room while the Sheriff went back with Lydia and Melissa. Stiles looked as though he was trapped in between almost passing out again and trying to watch attentively for his dad to come back, but it was a losing battle as his head continued drooping.

Derek looked over, thinking briefly about Lydia’s earlier words before reaching over and tugging Stiles towards him. “Come on Stiles, you should get some sleep. I’ll be here if we hear anything.” Stiles attempted to dissent, but allowed himself eventually to be pulled against Derek’s shoulder, where he readily fell asleep.  
~~~~~~~~

“Why isn’t this working? The portal has almost opened twice, and then been closed.” The Necromancer sat once more upon the Nemeton, twining her tendrils of magic through the roots of the tree, forcing it answer her. Whining its response, the tree showed her the wolf from just days before sitting next to the boy she had cursed. Though the Nemeton could not provide answers in words, the images it showed implied the answer the Necromancer. 

“I suppose I just have to get him out of the way then.” The Nemeton’s flames stuttered in an almost condescending way. “No I can’t kill the werewolf, but I can kill his will to protect the boy.” 

Her tattoos began glowing as she searched through the Afterlife, searching for human souls attached to the wolf. Though not expecting exactly the types of souls she found, she readily brought them into this world, only for Derek to see. With a final burst of energy and light emanating from her tattoos, five nebulous shapes came into being and travelled toward the hospital.  
~~~~~~~~

Derek was idly flipping through a magazine, not really noting the words on the pages. Half his attention was on Stiles’ head and shoulder weighing heavily on his own, while the other was distracted by worries about Lydia. The Sheriff had decided to leave when Lydia’s mom had arrived, but Derek knew Stiles would refuse to leave until he knew how she was, so he hadn’t bothered to wake him up. 

The waiting room was empty except for him and Stiles, when suddenly it became dead quiet. Even the sound of Stiles’ breathing and heart died away. Derek looked up sharply and scented the air. What he smelled made him feel as though the air were being sucked out his lungs. Smoke, burning wood, pain, and fear, so much fear.  
When he saw the figures walking towards him down the hall, their steps falling in an eerily weightless manner, he felt as though his heart stopped beating. His little cousins, the human ones, who had burned in the fire were stepping towards him with loathing and insanity storming in their eyes in equal measure. His brain felt like it was swirling around in his skull, his breath was coming too shallow, and his heart felt like it was breaking his ribs. 

*  
Something was tugging at his sleeve, but he couldn’t bring himself to address it, which is when something firm covered his nose and mouth firmly and just long enough to get him to turn his head. His eyes focused in on Stiles’ who was saying something he couldn’t hear over the sudden wailing screams of his cousins. He ripped away from Stiles turning to face the diminutive figures closing in on him, screaming as their skin slowly burned in front of him despite the lack of flames.

“Stay-stay away from me! It wasn’t my fault. Leave me alone.” Panic filled his eyes and his nostrils flared as he turned away from the tiny, scalded figures and bolted out of the hospital. No matter how fast he ran though, they somehow kept pace with him. He had just managed to breach the door to the outside, when one, Sadie, lunged at his knees and he careened forward, landing roughly on sidewalk. 

“Derek! Derek!” He heard his name coming from somewhere, but he couldn’t process the sounds and smells of anything other than the cries and scalded flesh of his little cousins. “He can’t help you! You can’t help him!” They were screaming at him, over and over again. 

Suddenly, Stiles appeared in front of Derek, just out of his reach, held immobile by two of his adult cousins, Mary and George. He looked terrified, as one held his arms behind his back while the other held his head and neck, poised to snap it. 

Derek was being pressed back against a brick wall, his cousins were clawing at him, pressing him against the wall. “You can’t help him, he can’t help you.” It filled the swimming space in Derek’s mind and he didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to fight back against them? Hurt them more than he already had? Was he supposed to let Stiles be murdered right in front of him? The bodies of his little cousins were already mostly burnt and unrecognizable now, but Stiles still stood there, his mouth moving in words Derek couldn’t hear. 

In a desperate attempt to reach Stiles, Derek let his claws extend and began rending the flesh of the bodies holding him against the wall. He tried to block out their angered screaming, reminding him of his betrayal yet again, as he lunged toward Stiles and ripped the throats from Mary and George. He stared at Stiles with hazy green eyes while Stiles stared back at him, shock distorting his features as Derek collapsed to the ground, bleeding from the wounds Stiles had just watched him rip into his own flesh, as though possessed.  
*  
~~~~~~~~

Derek felt the familiar cold metal of Deaton’s table before he could bring the rest of his senses to awareness. He shifted roughly and realized parts of his body were still covered in clotted blood. The only reason he wouldn’t be healing was if he had been injured by an alpha or had injured himself. He tried sitting up, but his head felt like it was full of lead and he groaned in pain as it fell back to the table loudly. 

“Derek!” Stiles had apparently been in the room and was now standing over him. “Derek what happened? Why were you hurting yourself? Who was trying to kill me?”

“Not so many words.” Derek winced. 

“Oh right. Pain. One sec.” Stiles turned towards the door. “Scott!”

A few moments later Scott’s hands were on his arm and the pain was draining out of his head and muscles, and he was pushing himself to sit up on the edge of the table. 

“It was my cousins.” He started roughly, his throat feeling like it was coated in sand at the memory. “My little cousins that burned in the fire. They were holding me down, making me watch as my other cousins, the adults, were threatening to kill you.” Stiles was staring at him blankly, and it irritated Derek. “What?”

“Derek no one was there with us. You were just tearing yourself apart against the wall.” Stiles looked down, concern and indecision in his honey eyes. “I tried stopping you but…” he trailed off, starting to turn away like he didn’t want to finish, and that’s when Derek saw it. The bloody tears in his shirt just above his hip. 

Derek’s eyes widened. “I hurt you,” he croaked out quietly. Not in all his threatening and wall-pushing has he ever actually physically injured Stiles.

“No, no. It’s not a big deal! Derek you didn’t know what you were doing.” Stiles was looking at him almost pleadingly, begging him to believe him.

“What if I do it again? What if she sends them to me again?” He was assuming this was the Necromancer, trying to interfere. “Stiles, what if she does this to me while you’re asleep?”

“Well then she can do it to anyone.” Deaton had finally entered the room. “And I think you are still the best choice for keeping the portal from opening, logistically. According to my contact, Necromancers are used to being able to manipulate situations using spirits that will affect individuals. It seems likely she was trying to keep Derek from interfering, since he has succeeded twice now. We just need to figure out how to train you all to see the effects of her magic while it’s happening.”

Scott agreed that the pack would meet at Deaton’s the next evening.  
~~~~~~~~

Back at the Stilinski’s, Derek followed Stiles into his room. Neither was speaking, and it was the most tense they had been since Stiles could remember. He knew Derek was angry at himself, for hurting him, and he couldn’t figure out how to make him feel better. 

“Lydia’s going to be okay.” He offered. Derek grunted. “The doctor said she had a minor aneurism in her language center, which was why she was having trouble speaking. They caught it soon enough and it was on the surface so they were able to cauterize it and she should be back to normal soon.” Saying it out loud made it sound a lot more serious than it had in his head. 

“I hurt you.” Derek repeated pathetically, staring at his feet.

“Derek look at yourself. You hurt yourself way, way worse. This,” he lifted his shirt slightly revealing a smallish square of gauze, “this is nothing compared to what you did to yourself."

"Why don't you get it? I was willing to tear my family apart- young children- to save you. Do you know what would happen to me if I killed you?" 

If Stiles were smart, he would realize how similar this confession was to the one he had given Lydia years earlier. If he were smart, or perhaps not being willfully blind, he would have gotten it, right then, but he wasn't. Instead of making him understand that the dynamic between them (at least on Derek’s end) was not just of simple friendship anymore, it made him feel like he needed to protect Derek from his self-blame. 

He reached out awkwardly for Derek’s shoulder and when he didn’t lift his eyes, Stiles squatted so he had no choice. “You won’t kill me, Sourwolf. You’ve never hurt me in my life, no matter how angry I’ve made you.” He didn’t add the ‘not physically, anyway’ that kept nudging into his thoughts. “The steering wheel thing doesn’t count, since that didn’t even leave a bruise.” That got a minute, fleeting smile out of Derek, so small it barely lifted his cheeks, but it had been there. He reached back and pulled at his bun, something he had taken to doing when he was on the verge of a solution but couldn’t quite get it. 

Derek watched the motion, seeing Stiles’ abusing the little knob of hair on his head made him wish he could do the same. His thoughts circled back to Lydia’s advice once more. 

Stiles, seeing the doubt still brimming in the wolf’s eyes tried one last thing. “Look Derek, if there is one person in this pack who will literally sacrifice everything about their self for the sake of someone else and who can actually help me get through this, it’s you. I may not have been able to see what you were seeing last night, but you told me that you were willing to hurt members of your own family to protect me. I have been asked to choose between my friends and my family before and I don’t know if I could have done what you did, no matter how real or fake I thought it was.” Stiles paused, then said one last thing. “You trust me, and I trust you, and you’re not leaving me alone again.”

Derek’s eyes widened momentarily. He and Stiles had long ago come to some unspoken understanding that they trusted each other, but they never really needed to talked about it. Stiles wasn't going to let him pull away again, no matter how much he wanted to, because he had more faith in him than Derek had in himself. 

Derek nodded. "I won't leave."

Stiles gave his hair one last tug, as though declaring victory and yep, that was something Derek needed to start doing. "Now go get changed. You need to sleep and heal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically what happened is that the spirits of Derek's kid cousins try to hold Derek down while some others threaten to kill Stiles. Derek has to choose between hurting his family and letting Stiles die and he chooses to protect Stiles. It wasn't really all that gory, but considering they were kids, could maybe be a little disturbing for some people.
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Routines and Domesticity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last time I'll be updating this quickly, because I've got school and grad school apps coming up, but I wanted to get into the meat of Sterek before that happened! I promise to try to update as consistently as I can.

Stiles went for his run earlier that day. He had tried doing research but had too much nervous energy and couldn’t stop worrying about Derek’s wounds and Lydia in the hospital and what the Necromancer would do next if they kept succeeding at keeping the portal closed. 

He decided to run to the hospital to visit Lydia, but when he got there he was sent away, the nurse telling him to come back tomorrow when non-relatives would finally be allowed to visit. 

He considered taking the path around the preserve again, but the stretch from running seared through the shallow gashes on his hip that Deaton had closed up, and while pain was something he could run through, Derek would never forgive himself if they got worse before they got better. He considered for a moment just turning around and going home, but he found himself headed toward the loft instead. Unless Derek had gotten rid of the stuff he had stocked it with over winter break, which something in him said was unlikely, he could get a shower and redress his bandage there and wouldn’t have to worry the wolf with it more than he already was. 

He unlocked the loft, ignoring the embarrassed warmth that stole through his stomach like it did every time he was forced to acknowledge that, yes, he kept Derek’s spare key with his own. This time, however, he remembered that he had unlocked the door when the two had gone over yesterday and the wolf had apparently very pointedly said nothing. He was, after all, far too observant to have not noticed, and Stiles tried not to think about that too hard. 

All the supplies he needed were indeed still there, so he wrapped plastic wrap around his waist and taped the top and bottom of the layer to prevent water from getting into his wound. The water was hot and had nicer pressure than at his house, which was another benefit to showering at the loft instead. He mentally kicked himself when he realized that he only had Derek’s soap and shampoo at his disposal, making it unavoidable for him to figure out where he had washed up, but that was really a non-issue at this point. Derek was fully aware of how much time he had spent at the loft while he had been gone, and hadn’t seemed to mind. 

Once clean and dry, he carefully removed the plastic wrap and dressing, wincing as it pulled a bit at his stitches. The skin was angrily red and inflamed, clearly infected, and Deaton wasn’t authorized to prescribe him human antibiotics, which meant he had to go to a real doctor. 

Two hours, a pathetic dog story, a rabies shot, and a bottle of penicillin later he was back at the house. Derek was already awake, so he was glad he had left a note just in case. Hearing noises from the kitchen he stepped in that direction, and felt inexplicably warm when he saw Derek preparing two cups of coffee, shaking cinnamon into one. 

“How’d you know I was coming?”

“You’re loud.” His tone conveyed that it should have been obvious as he passed Stiles his coffee. 

“Okay, that’s not as weird as it should be.” Stiles took a sip. Derek put a little more cinnamon in than he did, but he didn’t say anything. 

Derek’s nose flared suddenly and his whole body stiffened. “Something smells rotten.” He said suspiciously. 

“Could be all those festering wounds of yours.” Stiles said a beat too late. 

In response, Derek lifted his shirt revealing clean and healed skin. 

Stiles took a too-large gulp and winced at the heat searing down his throat. He stared down Derek for a few moments before conceding defeat. Derek wasn’t alpha anymore, but his eyebrows still were. “Your scrape got infected so I had to go to urgent care to get some antibiotics.”

“Stiles!” Derek looked incensed. “You weren’t going to tell me were you?” 

“I didn’t want to make you more upset. You’re already mad at yourself for doing it in the first place. I didn’t want to make you blame yourself for my pathetic human immune system too.” The wolf stared at him for a few more moments before letting a hard breath out his nose that he had apparently been holding. They drank their coffee in companionable silence for a few moments. 

After a while, Derek looked up at Stiles, a sheepish and inquisitive look in his eye. “Did you shower at my place?” Stiles was surprised to see his face was just the faintest shade of pink.

“Um, yeah. I was kinda gross, but I didn’t want to wake you.” Despite the fact that Derek hadn’t said anything, Stiles suddenly felt compelled to clear the air about the matter. “That’s okay, isn’t it? That I’ve been going there? That I still go there?”

‘Of course it’s okay. I want you there all the time! I want you to shower there and eat there and sleep there and be there with me!’ Derek wanted to say, but he cleared his throat and tried to steady his voice. “Yeah, yeah of course. You have my key, after all. You can use it, whenever you want.” 

Stiles felt like his whole body was buzzing. It felt incredibly intimate, Derek acknowledging that he had a key and giving him permission to use it whenever he wanted. It should have been uncomfortable or strange, but it wasn’t. 

"Besides," he said, "I like how my shampoo smells better." He moved to exit the kitchen and gave Stiles' bun a gentle squeeze as he passed. The human nearly choked on his coffee at the unexpected action and each unbeknownst to the other, turned a subtle shade of pink.  
~~~~~~~~

Lydia was recovering, as Stiles had said, quickly and fully. Her speech was still slower than it used to be, but it was gaining in speed and ease each day and she showed no signs of further danger. Though she couldn’t tell the doctors, she told the group as she Skyped into the first pack meeting since the incident that she had indeed heard a very subtle difference in the vibration surrounding Stiles, but not well enough to identify it. What had happened to her head was that after she had tuned into the special frequency of the portal she had also tuned into the voices of the beings trying to get through.

“They were trying to get me to scream. They wouldn’t say why, but I figured that I probably shouldn’t so I held it in. But the pressure in my head just kept building and building from all of their voices and I felt like I was going to explode. I was worried I couldn’t hold it in any longer, but then Derek managed to wake Stiles up and I let it out.” The pressure had ruptured her eardrums and caused the aneurism. 

After hearing what she had to say, Deaton forbid her from being around Stiles if he was sleeping, even if it was just a nap. Deaton theorized that the Banshee scream resonated at the same frequency as whatever it was listening to, effectively allowing the Banshee to cancel out the overwhelming volume of what it is hearing. Had Lydia screamed like the spirits were telling her too, she may have accelerated the rate of the portal opening by adding strength to the vibration the portal in Stiles was creating. 

After that, the pack settled into a hesitant routine for a few days, Scott rotating the assignments between attempting to track down the Necromancer, watching over Lydia in the hospital, and practicing the techniques Deaton had taught them in small groups. The rotational schedule meant that Derek and Stiles were nearly always together, and Scott eyed them warily before every pack meeting, as though looking for signs that they were about to tear each other’s heads off. 

The two had actually quickly fallen into a routine of their own, aided by a few consecutive days in which Stiles miraculously had no nightmares. Stiles would take his antibiotic, pull his hair down, brush his teeth, and crawl into bed. Somewhere around the fourth night Derek spent watching him, he stopped worrying that sleeping in only his boxers would make Derek uncomfortable, seeing as how Derek never bothered bringing a pair of pajamas over from the loft. 

Starting the third night, he would fall asleep every night to the rhythmic tap of Derek writing an email to Cora, because of course he had perfect typing and didn’t need the backspace. 

On the fourth morning, Derek woke him with coffee and toast right when his alarm should have gone off, and that night he didn’t bother setting it at all. The next day he hesitantly corrected the amount of cinnamon Derek had been putting in, and it was never too much again. 

Derek started working out after he woke Stiles up, before showering and collapsing into the warm newspaper and cinnamon smell of Stiles’ bed. On the fifth day, he saw that Stiles’ had replaced his near empty bottle of shampoo with the same kind he had at the loft, and his whole body felt warmer than could be accounted for by his workout. 

Derek found any excuse he could to squeeze Stiles’ bun affectionately, and he was pleased when Stiles transitioned from jolting away in surprise to leaning back into his hand with a pleased scrunch to his face. The first time they accidentally did this in a pack meeting everyone stared at them as if they were trying to read a foreign language and Stiles had quickly cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  
~~~~~~~~

Stiles was becoming increasingly aware that his relationship with Derek had changed drastically. He continually tried blaming the constant attempts at finding small ways to make each other happy and newfound gravitation towards physical contact on how much time they were spending together, but he couldn’t justify that. If this had happened to them two or three years ago, Derek would have left the second he was awake in the morning without sparing a second glance. If this had happened two or three years ago, he wouldn’t have cared if Derek chose to leave as soon as he woke up. But this was now, and Derek woke him up with coffee, and he bought the kind of shampoo Derek liked, and they stood a little too close together at pack meetings. 

Needless to say, Stiles was massively confused by the great amount of pleasure the comfortable domesticity with Derek caused him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable admitting his feelings, and he was certainly okay with the possibility of liking a dude. It was the warm and fuzzies he got whenever Derek tugged at his bun or laughed at a joke or brought his perfect coffee in combination with the total lack of sexual attraction whatsoever that was confusing him. He was completely comfortable with admitting that he had what he would closely approximate to romantic feelings for Derek, but without any sexual desire whatsoever, he wasn’t really sure where he was left.

In true Stiles fashion he decided he needed to investigate by exploring how doing date-like things with Derek felt and compare it to how he had felt with Malia. The only problem, he realized, was that his relationship with Malia had been founded on a mutual need to find comfort in a horrible place, while he had years and years of baggage and feelings to sift through with Derek. He figured he would take it as it came.  
~~~~~~~~

Stiles had fallen asleep a few hours ago during the movie he had convinced Derek to watch with him. Derek was trying not to relive, yet again, the feeling of Stiles' soft hair on his neck and breath on his shoulder, when all of a sudden he groaned in his sleep. Derek tensed immediately, watching Stiles carefully, waiting for the heavy air and the Shimmer to start that indicated he needed to wake him up. 

It didn't come. Instead Stiles' breathing sped up and he gripped his sheets tightly, before his hips starting grinding circles into space. 

"Oh my god, this isn't happening." Derek ducked his head down, gripping the edge of the chair tightly, debating whether or not he should wake Stiles from this dream that was probably about Lydia or some girl from college. Stiles moaned out again, and Derek could smell the lusty scent coming off him. 'Argh, I should just wake him up. Pretend he was shimmering.'

"Dereeek," the human moaned out suddenly. The wolf's head shot up in a second, face instantly crimson, and then he was shaking Stiles awake, though with incredible regret. "What! What happened? Was it happening?" Stiles sat up so quickly his head almost collided with Derek's. 

Derek considered lying for a split second, but he was still semi-aroused by what had just happened and that apparently made him stupid. 

"Uhhh no." He said tentatively, glancing down between Stiles legs before thinking to stop himself. Stiles followed his glance and he immediately flushed, which Derek could see even in the dark.

"Oh my god, who was it about? You can't tell them!" His eyes were wide and pleading. Stiles didn’t want to admit that this was the first time this had happened to him in more than a year.

"Ehm. It was..me." Derek kept his head bent down, looking up at Stiles from beneath his lashes hesitantly.

"Oh." Stiles just stared at him for a second, as though letting that sink in. "I'm so sorry, man. I hope that doesn't make all this uncomfortable..." Stiles gestured around the room vaguely, refusing to look Derek in the eye. Now that he was awake he was fully aware that despite still being semi-aroused by whatever he had been dreaming about, he could look at Derek sitting next to him and not feel a thing. As he waited for him to reply, he considered the possibility that maybe he was attracted to Derek, and his awake self just didn’t know it yet. 

While Stiles struggled with his confused thoughts, Derek dealt with his own. 'Oh god, how do I respond to that? Do I tell him it's probably just all the time we've spent together? Or that it happens to everyone? Or...'

"It's fine. I'm kind of glad." It was out of his mouth before he could comprehend what he was saying and then he realized Stiles was just a staring at him and then it was his turn to be mortified. 

"Oh no. I just told you I..." He trailed off, unable to meet Stiles' eyes, choosing to stare at his feet instead, which were anxiously kicking against his bed frame. 

"Yeah. Yeah you did." Stiles looked up then, studying Derek's face. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast and he was aware that he was getting the warm-fuzzies all over, but he didn’t want to tell Derek how he felt, because he still didn’t know how he felt. "It's okay, I guess. What with watching over me and all. It makes sense. You've probably just been spending too much time with me." He chuckles nervously, rubbing the top of his head in aggressive circles. 

Derek frowned, this time somehow infinitely more frightening than the millions of glares he used to direct in Stiles' direction. He saw as Stiles swallowed thickly, his neck tense and smelled discomfort rolling off him in waves. 'God he has no idea how much this is not just a temporary thing.' Derek sighed, straining to control the simultaneous anger and sadness boiling under his skin. 'I don't want to make this weirder than it has to be though.' He couldn't have handled that. 

“It’s…whatever. Just go back to sleep.” He had been hoping for a more graceful exit from this conversation, but really in what world would his communication skills ever allow him to easily get out of an awkward situation. 

“Uh. You sure?” Stiles was now incredibly uncomfortable, but still somehow managing an incredible level of obliviousness. Derek didn’t say anything, instead just leveling him with one of his ‘Don’t test me, Stilinski” looks. Stiles sank back into his bed without further question. He didn’t know how to deal with this Derek, who had apparently retreated back into the days of eyebrow communication. Derek forced himself to stare at Stiles for further signs of Shimmer as Stiles fell asleep again, painfully slowly. 

Morning finally came and his alarm, that Derek had apparently reset, went off. Though he was still bleary eyed and foggy from sleep, it didn’t escape his attention that Derek had stood and abruptly exited through the window before he could fully rouse himself. If he hadn’t fully believed that something was wrong last night, he certainly did now and his stomach sank as he watched Derek run to his Camaro and speed away. Stiles’ cheeks became splotched with pink and then his mouth settled into a frown as he remembered the events of the night before as if in slow motion. He needed help.

Stiles ran to Mason's house, his wound finally healed enough for physical activity, and thankfully he was alone. When he opened the door, he looked at Stiles with confusion. In his desperation for clarity, Stiles had forgotten that despite both being pack, he and Mason weren't exactly friends, and he had pushed hardest and longest against him joining the pack. 

"Um, hi? You know whose house you came to right? You're not looking for Liam?" 

Stiles rubs the back of his head sheepishly and screws his face up before saying hesitantly, "No, no I'm here to see you. Yeah. It's, uh, personal." 

Mason just stares at him for a few moments before stepping aside and leaving the doorway clear. "Just take your shoes off. They're a mess." 

Stiles follows him through the house, padding around on the hardwood in his socks. Mason is wearing slippers with dogs on them. When he catches Stiles staring he just says, "From Liam." It's really all the explanation necessary. 

"So what did you want to talk about?" He's clearly trying to move things along.

"Alright, I just need you to promise you won't tell anyone. Especially Liam, because if he knows the whole pack will know because you know how he is." It all comes out in a jumble and Mason smiles because he can tell Stiles is nervous and friends or not, he does care about him.

"Ok ok, no worries. I can keep a secret, believe me."

Stiles hesitates and then dives right in.

"So last night Derek was watching over me, as he does every night and he woke me up because I was apparently having uh…” Stiles hesitated for a moment before deciding he needed to sacrifice whatever dignity he had left to fix this. “Having a wet dream. About him.”

“Ah.” Mason looked at him quizzically. “Why is that a problem?”

“How is that not a problem?” Stiles’ arms flailed in every direction and he shouted exasperatedly. 

“Because Derek likes you too?” Mason said like it was obvious. “Why is this an issue?”  
Stiles sighed. He had been trying to figure out how to word this as best he could but now it all sounded like a mess in his head. 

“Well I’ve always known when I liked someone. Well really I’ve only ever liked Lydia and Malia. I’ve made out with a couple other girls in high school, but that wasn’t really anything. But the point is that when I liked them I was attracted to them. Hell even when I didn’t know I liked Malia yet, I was somewhat attracted to her. But with Derek, it’s like I’ve known him for so long and our relationship has changed so many times, but now I’m certain that I have” he struggled to find the right word, “nice feelings for him and I know it’s different than how it is with my friends, but I…” he paused again.

“Yes?” Mason prompted. 

“I’m not attracted to him. Like at all.”

“You don’t find Derek- Derek Hale, attractive?” Mason looked bewildered. 

“Of course he’s attractive! Objectively. And like, I want to touch him all the time, but not like, touch touch.” Stiles was becoming increasingly aware that he sounded like a middle schooler talking about “like liking” someone.

“So basically you have the emotional hots for Derek, but not the physical hots?” Stiles nodded tentatively. “You could be Gray-A I suppose. Or demi” 

Stiles shook his head at Mason with an indignantly confused expression. “Gray what? Demi?”

“Gray-A. Or Gray-Asexual. So you have asexuality which is basically not feeling sexual attraction to anyone, and there’s a spectrum of that, just like there’s a spectrum between gay and straight. Some people aren’t totally asexual but they also don’t experience full blown sexual attraction, or they do only to certain people. Those people can describe themselves as gray-a. Some people can experience sexual attraction to someone, but only after they’ve developed a really strong emotional bond to them. They generally identify as demisexual. Neither sounds like a perfect match for you, but labels are kind of shit, so you do you man.”

Stiles stood there, staring blankly at Mason for what must have been minutes and Mason just stood and stared back. Could he be romantically attracted to Derek and just wait to develop physical feelings? What if he never started being attracted to him? Constantly stuck in this limbo of liking Derek and never wanting more than just him? Was that okay? If there were terms for it and Mason knew about it, then other people clearly dealt with this, so he could too. But would Derek want to deal with that? Would Derek even talk to him again? And then Stiles groaned, remembering the other reason he had a problem.

“What’s the matter? Did that not help?” Mason sounded genuinely invested this time.

“Uh yeah, yeah I think so. As much as it possibly could right now. But I have another problem.” Mason nodded encouragingly. “After Derek told me about it, he said he liked me, and I kinda told him it was just because he’d been spending so much time with me.” He winced as he let out the last bit in a whoosh of breath. 

“You did what?” Mason didn’t sound angry often. It was cuter than it should have been. “You literally told Derek it was just a phase. He literally came out to you in the most scary way possible and you told him it was a phase. You have to fix this.”

“Wha-how?”

“You apologize profusely, after the pack meeting today." 

And so Stiles planned to do just that.  
~~~~~~~~

The pack meeting was uncomfortable beyond compare. Derek situated himself directly across the circle from Stiles, as far away as possible and refused to make eye contact the entire time. The rest of the pack did not fail to notice, and though everyone was either too polite or too scared to bring it up, Stiles recognized that Scott, blessedly, was speeding up the process considerably. 

When the meeting adjourned, Derek turned and left almost immediately. Stiles watched him leave helplessly, but an elbow nudged him in the side and he looked over to see Mason looking aggressively after Derek. Stiles booked it out the door after him. 

"What the hell?" Ethan asked.

"Ah, you know?" Lydia perked up, catching on brilliantly. "Stiles told me this morning that Derek caught him having a good time. You know how he gets about sex stuff. Probably just embarrassed." The pack seemed to accept that answer, and Lydia and Mason were secretly grateful at that moment that the pack could be incredibly oblivious sometimes. 

Stiles caught up to Derek, getting to him just before he got into his Camaro. "Derek wait, please." The wolf gave him the 'what now?' eyebrows. "I need to explain some things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next both have Mason and Stiles attempting to figure out the nature of his sexuality. As Mason said, "labels are shit." Stiles' experience with his sexuality is loosely based on mine, so that I could have something accurate to write about, so try not to be upset or anything if you don't agree with how I expressed the LGBT terminology I used. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Try Not to Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% Sterek chapter. Thank you to thehyacinthgirl for being my beta!

Derek stood at his open car door, watching Stiles expectantly. When Stiles failed to continue he bit out through gritted teeth, “What?” 

Stiles looked around helplessly for a few moments before asking tentatively, “Can we go somewhere else? I don’t really need them all hearing this before you get a chance to.” He nodded his head up at the loft windows behind which the entire pack was likely listening in.

Derek sighed, as though the thought of driving his sports car was a burden and then climbed in. Stiles clambered into the passenger side and Derek sped off, coming to a stop several miles away on a side-road in the preserve. He turned and looked warily over at Stiles. 

“Okay, right. Let me just figure out where to start.” Stiles was looking at his hands which were quivering slightly, and the car smelled acrid from his anxiety. “I guess I should start by apologizing, before I explain.” Derek winced. The last thing he wanted was Stiles’s pity that he had yet again foolishly directed his feelings at someone who couldn’t return them properly. 

Stiles could see his face starting to close off and he rushed on so the conversation didn’t stop before it started. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about it just being overexposure. I have enough gay friends to know that’s not how feelings work and it was incredibly not nice of me to shut you down like that.”

It wasn’t the apology Derek was expecting, and it did address part of the reason he was upset, but it didn’t change the biggest issue that had crept between them. “You still don’t like me though.” His voice was small and it made Stiles wish he could make Derek feel better than what he was about to say probably would.

“I-I don’t know if I do. This is confusing for me.” Derek looked at him, a little bewildered. “I think I do have feelings for you, but I’m not sure.”

The confusion in Derek’s face deepened. “How can you not be sure? You either like someone or you don’t.” Derek wanted to let the hope he felt trying to swell take over but he was too used and too tired to let it happen again. 

“Because… Oh man this is so much more awkward to explain than I thought it would be.” Stiles was floundering horribly and this time Derek didn’t look amused, so he did his best to just press on. “Because whenever I’ve liked someone before, I was always been attracted to them, you know? Been at least a little sexually attracted. But with you I'm,“ Stiles glanced sheepishly at Derek as he finished, “not.”

He looked rather taken aback, though Stiles could tell he was trying to hide it. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

He said it with such blatant disbelief that Stiles snorted, feeling a little of the tension in his shoulders ease. “I mean, of course you’re attractive. Objectively. But what I mean is you don't turn me on.” Admitting it straight to Derek’s face was far more embarrassing than he had expected, and against his will color rose rapidly in his cheeks.

Sounding incredulous, words erupted loudly out of Derek’s mouth as though against his will. “You had a wet dream about me, Stiles!”

Stiles cheeks went from being a lovely pink to tomato red in no time. “I know! But as soon as I woke up and actually looked at you there was nothing.” Stiles thought back to what Mason had told him that morning and about the subsequent research he had done. “Look, I think I’m something called demi-sexual, at least with you. Or maybe gray-asexual. It basically means that I have to be really emotionally close to someone first in order to experience sexual attraction. But since this has never happened to me, I could also be gray-a, where I might experience sexual attraction to some people and not others.”

Derek looked like he’d just been forced to eat a lemon. “But you’ve been sexually attracted to people before. Like way before you got to know them. Malia for instance.”

“Yeah I know. I looked into that too, and it’s possible that I’m typically heterosexual, but also like homo-demisexual. But also, I was never nearly as into sex as Malia was, so I might have been like this with her too and just not realized.” Stiles could tell how hard Derek was trying to process all of this, but he also knew that he was going to butcher it if he tried explaining further on a half-day’s worth of research. “All I’m saying Derek, is that at this time I don’t have sexual feelings for you. Maybe dream Stiles is able to get aroused by you, but awake Stiles definitely isn’t.”

As supposed to sad or upset, Derek looked genuinely irritated. “Stiles, we’re back to square one like last night when you shut me down. What are you actually trying to tell me?”

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to formulate his feelings into words that accurately expressed them. It wasn’t going to be eloquent, that was for sure. “I feel a lot closer to you, than I’ve ever felt before. And it’s not just because we’ve been spending so much time together. It’s because we’ve changed as people. This conversation is evidence of that. I like seeing you everyday, and I have trouble falling asleep at night because I want to stay up and talk to you more, and I get really happy when I tell you that you’ve been adding too much cinnamon to my coffee and you don’t get mad but you just fix it. The problem is that those are things that make me happy about my friendship with Lydia, and what I used to have with Scott, only it’s a little different. It’s just, I can’t tell if that’s because it’s you and it’s going to be different than with Scott by definition, or if it’s different because it’s romantic.” Stiles took a moment to breath before continuing. 

“I want you to be happy, and I want you to have what you deserve, and I don’t know yet if I can be that. If I had sexual feelings for you, I would know right now that I want to be with you, but I don’t and I can’t hurt you like that.” Stiles had watched Derek’s face the entire time, watching for signs that he was saying something wrong, but the werewolf had carefully schooled his jaw tight and his eyebrows drawn to keep anything from showing as he stared out the windshield. Suddenly as his monologue came to an end, Derek gave a huff of laughter which turned into a full-blown chuckle when he saw the look of horror on Stiles’s face. “What? This isn’t funny!”

“No, no it’s not. I’m sorry.” Derek did his best to school his face back into seriousness, but only managing slightly amused. “It’s just that almost everyone I’ve ever dated has only liked me for sex. Even with Braeden, it started that way, and I’m not sure she ever grew to totally understand me as a person. But you. You’re sitting here telling me you don’t want to date me because you’re not sure if you can properly care about me as a human being. You’re not even concerned about the fact that you’re not interested in having sex with me. You’re concerned that that means you don’t like me enough.”

Stiles face had become incredibly grave and it was such a rare expression that Derek stopped talking. 

“That’s even less funny.” Stiles knit his fingers together anxiously. “That makes this worse Derek. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than some almost-20-year-old who still can’t figure out his feelings.”

“Stiles you don’t get it. I’m not interested in what your feelings for me are. I’m interested in the fact that you care about them at all, and that it’s only tangentially related to having sex with me.” Derek paused for a moment to pick his words carefully before continuing. “You don’t have to commit to being or not being with me in this moment. I resigned myself to never having you a long time ago. The fact that it’s actually on the table now, even if it’s only on the edge, is more than I ever expected.”

Stiles reared back for a moment, disbelief and shock filling every inch of his being. “A long time ago? How long ago?”

“Since I was gone with Cora.” 

Derek winced as Stiles yelled, “You’ve had feelings for me for two and a half years? Why didn’t you do anything about it?” Derek gave him a judgmental look as if saying ‘think about that for a sec,’ and Stiles got it. “I was only 17. And possessed. And then I was with Malia.” Stiles winced too as he realized how much that must have sucked for Derek. “No wonder you were so determined not to let Chris kill me.” He added softly, growing distant for a moment as he thought about all the time with the Nogitsune.

They sat there in distracted silence for a few minutes, contemplating all of the revelations they had just unveiled. Finally Stiles took a breath and spoke. 

“So what do you want to do?”

“Give you more time, until you figure out how you feel.”

“And what if I do realize I want to be with you but I never want to have sex? What if I really am ace towards you?” 

Derek thought about that, but couldn’t come up with a good answer. “I don’t know. I want to say that I would be happy to just be with you because it’s you, but I have needs and I can’t deny that. I’d be more than happy to wait for you, but I don’t know if I could deny myself forever.”

Stiles looked miserable as Derek answered, and even more so when he replied. “Sexual incompatibility is a legitimate reason that couples break up. I’m never going to expect you to stay in a relationship that doesn’t satisfy everything you need if you realize it’s not enough.”

“So.” Derek said with finality.

“So.”

“Why don’t we keep going how we’ve been going? Keep the routine, keep the interactions, nothing needs to change. If you want something to change, you just tell me what you want, and we’ll keep going until you figure out how you feel.”

Stiles sighed loudly. “That sounds horrible!”

Derek blinked a few times, not understanding. “Why?”

“For you! That’s literally what you’ve been dealing with since this whole thing with the necromancer started.”

“Except now I know that it’s not just one-sided with no chance you’ll ever return my feelings.” Derek smiled somewhat mischievously. “This time it’ll be a little more like wooing.”

Stiles blushed thoroughly. Whether or not he was totally sure he liked Derek romantically, the thought of being wooed flustered him deeply and his heart took off, which only made Derek grin wider before suddenly growing serious. 

"Just remember that if I make you uncomfortable, ever, you can tell me. This isn't about me trying to make you like me. This is about me trying to let go around you. Trying to be myself. If I overstep any bounds, I need you to tell me." 

Stiles grinned, the first truly happy expression he’d worn since last night. “No worries, Sourwolf, telling you when I don’t like what you’re doing is literally ingrained in my bones by years of practice.” Derek scowled in mock irritation. “But do you think we should tell the pack what’s going on?”

“What would we tell them? I’m sure they’ve already noticed something’s different between us, and we don’t really have anything concrete to say. Besides Mason and Lydia definitely already know because they’re them.” Derek looked worried, like he wasn’t sure he was saying the right thing. “I’d rather we don’t until we’ve figured it out first.” He decided upon finally. 

Stiles nodded sharply. “Then I guess we’ll just try to be ourselves and do what’s comfortable and see where we go from there.” They sat in the car for a while, Stiles fidgeting uncomfortably. “I’m not going to lie, this might be a little awkward for me for a while. I’m not good at acting natural when I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing and why.”

Derek smiled softly, and it gave Stiles one of those feelings that told him deep down he really did like him, no matter how confused he was the rest of the time. “I know this is going to sound absurd coming from me, but don’t think so much Stiles. People usually think feelings into submission, not the other way around. Try to let whatever happens happen.” He reached out to squeeze Stiles’s bun and then restarted the engine. “Back to your place?”

Without even a beat Stiles replied, “Let’s stay at yours. It’s closer and I’m tired.” As Derek headed in the direction of the loft, Stiles stared out the window and smiled to himself as he tried not to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	8. Feeding the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to thehyacinthgirl for all the lovely input and being my beta :) Stiles has a panic attack in this chapter, for anyone who might be triggered by that. There is also some violent/graphic imagery. I expanded on Brett's canonical backstory because I think he's a great character that should be explored more, and I added some canon divergent references, so be warned if you're hoping for perfect canon compliance.

The nightmares started up again that night. Derek had more trouble waking Stiles this time, and by the time he managed it, he was covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion of moving through the molasses air. They sat on Derek’s bed for a while, facing each other just as they had the first night. Stiles had folded in on himself, shaking uncontrollably as though he were freezing and Derek squeezed tightly on his shoulders. According to Stiles, the pressure helped ground him, though he hadn’t realized it until the second time Derek had calmed him that way.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to realize he wasn’t going to fall back asleep anytime soon, so Derek slipped away briefly to the kitchen, returning with the two decks of cards. Settling himself on the floor in front of the bed, he began dealing two games of solitaire. Once Stiles realized what he was doing he smiled shyly and crawled out of his tangle of sheets.

“We racing?”

Derek shook his head languidly. “Just play.” 

And so they did. The two sat cross legged across from each other, giving each other tips when they noticed the other was stuck, groaning when the deck beat them yet again, and fist-pumping when they finally managed to win a game here and there. Eventually Stiles hands no longer shook when he picked up a card and he started yawning.

“Thanks, Sourwolf.” He said drowsily, as his eyes fell shut before he even managed to properly cover himself up. Derek pulled the blankets over him and instead of returning to his chair, slipped into the space next to Stiles and shuffled the cards quietly as he waited for morning.

~~~~~~~~

Stiles was woken not by a hot cup of coffee but by Derek’s phone ringing sharply next to him on the bed.

“It’s Scott.” Derek said, worry in his voice. Stiles’s drowsiness dissipated immediately. Scott wouldn’t call at 6 in the morning to say ‘hi.’

“Scott, what’s the matter?” Derek spoke into the phone before putting it on speaker so Stiles could hear. He never seemed to forget that Stiles didn’t have special powers.

“Malia and Hayden. They’re both in the hospital. You should get here fast.”

Stiles hadn’t gotten ready so fast in a long time and soon he and Derek were in the Camaro heading to the hospital. Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Liam met them at the ICU waiting room. The rest of the pack hadn’t arrived yet.

“What happened?” If Stiles didn’t look a little crazy in his worry, he would be surprised.

“Malia was hanging out with us last night, and Hayden was with Liam. About the same time this morning, they both started reacting like they were seeing people, like when Derek saw his cousins. Malia was seeing her adoptive mom and sister, and Hayden was seeing the person who’s kidney she has.” Scott paused, seeming to have trouble continuing, so Kira took over.

“Malia thought her sister and mom were telling her to kill herself so she could be with them.”

“And Hayden thought her kidney donor was trying to take it back.” Liam said quietly. His eyes were red and swollen. “Hayden’s so strong! I tried to stop her, but…”

“Oh my God.” Derek whispered, realizing what happened.

“She ripped her own kidney out before I could.” Liam finished.

“It can grow back right?” Stiles asked desperately. “Right?” He asked more urgently when he got no response.

“If she were a normal werewolf, it would regenerate. But it doesn’t work that way for Chimaeras. They only heal what they still have. She’s been put on the top of the donor list and she’s on dialysis.”

“And Malia?” Derek pushed.

“She ripped herself apart pretty badly and then jumped off of Lydia’s roof. She fractured her skull and broke a lot of bones. We’re not allowed to see her yet, but my mom said her head looks like it’s starting to heal. She’s still in a coma though.”

Stiles felt like his world was falling apart. Malia and Hayden had been the toughest and strongest members of the pack. Hayden was always the fastest to heal and Malia had the most brute strength. If the necromancer could bring them down, what else could she do? He felt himself grasping for Derek’s hand without realizing it, finding vague comfort in the pressure the werewolf returned.

“Lydia, are they gonna die?” Stiles looked pleadingly at the banshee, begging her to say no.

“I don’t know, Stiles. I don’t know. If they are it’s not going to happen soon. I could hear them for a while right when it happened, then the voices quieted down.

"Well that's something to hold onto then. We all just need to stay with them once we’re allowed to. I don't know about Chimaeras, but Weres gain strength and heal best when surrounded by pack." Derek realized it wasn't his place to give directions, but Scott still wasn't great at compartmentalizing his emotions, and it was the clear the young alpha was having trouble gathering himself after watching his beta try to kill herself.

"Okay. Why don't you go home and sleep, Derek? Lydia and I can stay with Malia and Kira and Liam can stay with Hayden first. We'll take shifts staying with them in pairs."

Derek nodded but Stiles's concern grew. "Is it a good idea pairing the humans with werewolves? If the necromancer sends more spirits while they're alone the humans might get hurt, like Liam almost did."

"Well Lydia has her force field magic so she can protect herself from me and Kira and Liam are good."

"What about Mason and me?"

"Derek can be with Brett and you with Mason. You two don't always have to be together." Scott chided softly, raising an eyebrow playfully.  

"We're not always-" Stiles tried to protest before cutting himself off and blushing as he realized they were in fact always together now. He was suddenly hyper aware of their linked hands, and was tempted to let go, but he remembered Derek's advice and held on, letting himself have what his instincts had wanted him to take. "Okay fine, I'll be with Mason."

Brett, Mason, and Ethan arrived then and Scott recounted the events again. Scott was about to send everyone on their respective missions when he noticed Kira rocking back and forth, exuding discomfort from every pore.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just think it would be a good idea to," she paused to cringe, "maybe tell everyone else about the humans who have died in our lives. So we can be prepared, you know? Help each other find ways to recognize reality or just know what to expect."

The pack sat in silence thinking about that for a while before Brett spoke. Derek didn't know much about him except for that he had chosen to leave Satomi's pack and join Scott's sometime around the time Hayden joined.

"My parents died in a fire when I was young, so my sister and I were raised by my grandfather. When I was 12, he was driving me to lacrosse practice one day and he started having a stroke on the highway. He lost control of the car and we flipped three times, stopping around where Satomi's pack lived at the time. She pulled me out of the car and called 911 for my grandfather, since he wasn’t a wolf. I asked her if she would bite him but she refused, saying he was too old, so I sat there and watched him die before the ambulance arrived.

"Do you blame yourself?" Liam asked.

Brett shook his head. "No. But I always feel like I should have died with him, even though I still had my sister. Satomi's pack became our family, but he was the last blood relative we had left." Mason clasped him on the shoulder supportively.

The pack cycled through. Lydia and Scott both had Allison, no one human in Mason or Liam's lives had died, Kira had learned that she had electrocuted an Eichen house patient when they had gone to visit Valack, Stiles had his mother and Allison, Ethan had few from his time with the Alpha pack, and aside from his cousins Derek of course had Paige.

Stiles felt his heart clench painfully when he saw how difficult it still was for Derek to talk about her. The ease with which he could now talk about his family made it clear that Derek had come to terms with the fire and that it wasn’t his fault, but he clearly still completely blamed himself for Paige’s death. He wished more than anything that he could take that pain, but he knew that even if he had werewolf powers, emotional pain couldn’t be taken so easily. Instead he reached out the short distance to cup the back of Derek’s neck and rubbed small circles with his thumb into the ridged muscle at the base of his skull. The wolf’s clenched jaw relaxed at the action, but his eyes squeezed shut tighter as though he was actively trying to resist the memories that were surfacing.

The pack sat quietly in the miraculously empty waiting room for a few more minutes before Scott spoke.

  
“Why don’t you guys head home now? Derek can send us a text once he’s woken up and we can switch shifts.” The pack nodded acknowledgment and Derek, Stiles, Ethan, Brett, and Mason headed home. Lydia and Scott would wait to see Malia, and Kira and Liam would wait for Hayden to be allowed visitors.

As Derek and Stiles started walking out through the twisting halls of the hospital, Stiles felt Derek’s knuckles brush against his own twice before apparently changing his mind and jerking them away.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly. “You can do it too.”

Derek ducked his head to hide the small upward curl of his lips as he tentatively pressed his fingers in between Stiles’s. The warmth and solidity of his palm and fingers grounded Stiles some, pulling him out of the thoughts in his head that were rapidly spiraling downwards.

Outside of his need for comfort and reassurance though, holding hands with Derek in public was weird. He and Braeden had never been particularly tender with each other, and Stiles couldn’t think about Derek’s time with Jennifer without inwardly cringing, so it was difficult enough imagining Derek doing normal couple-y things, let alone processing that it was happening. He kept glancing up and down between their linked hands and Derek’s face, which continued facing stoically forward.

Derek eventually grew exasperated though. “Stiles, either let go or quit thinking so much. It’s not going to bother me if you’re not ready for this, but you’re driving me nuts.” Stiles gave one more hard look at their hands before moving his hand from the bottom to the top and settling in to the position. The angle had been uncomfortable. Ironically, they arrived at the car about a minute later and had to let go anyway.

~~~~~~~~

Derek had been asleep for a few hours and Stiles had been managing to distract himself but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to much longer. His hands were beginning to shake and his mind kept creating images of Hayden and Malia as they dealt with their invisible demons. He kept imagining Liam sprawled on the floor where Hayden had thrown him while she ripped and clawed through her torso for the only kidney she had. Images of Malia falling with a loud crack on Lydia’s driveway circled behind his eyes as he tried working through his calming techniques. The panic attack reached a head when he started seeing Allison, blood seeping through her shirt around the Oni blade, begging to know how he could let the Nogitsune kill her.

Before he could continue spiraling, Stiles was shaking Derek roughly as he tried to pull breath into his lungs. Derek jerked awake and almost yelled out Stiles’s name when he first smelled the panic filling the room and then saw Stiles shaking and curling in on himself on the bed. He had helped Stiles through a few before, but this panic attack was more severe than any he had ever seen.

Making sure not to touch him, Derek asked, “Do you have your inhaler?”

Stiles shook his head furiously, and opened his mouth to speak only to find no words could come out which only served to make the panic worse. He had never actually become nonverbal before, and he grasped at his throat in fear.

Derek reached for his phone on the bedside table and opened the Notes app. “Can you type?” Stiles nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Stiles fumbled with the phone but eventually got a message out and passed the phone back. Can you full shift? Derek looked confused for a moment before he nodded, stripped, and let the full shift take over his body. Stiles reached out for his scruff and pulled at Derek until he had Derek’s nose in the hollow at the base of his throat and Stiles face was buried in the soft fur between his ears and his arms were clasped almost painfully tight around Derek’s shoulders. Derek let out warm huffs of even breath against Stiles’s throat, wordlessly communicating that he should breath. Stiles eventually felt the rhythm and began breathing to it before his mind had calmed down enough to consciously process what Derek was trying to get him to do.

Eventually his breath was coming regularly again and the numbers he had been mouthing into Derek’s fur came out as real words. The shaking in his hands began subsiding as he managed to focus on the solid animal beneath him and the constant count of ten instead of the phantom Allison in his mind. When he finally braved opening his eyes, the walls were no longer closing in and the crushing pain in his chest had faded to a dull ache.

A few more minutes passed before he felt weak but otherwise in control of himself, and he leaned away from Derek to simply take in his wolf form when a thought struck him.

“I’ve never seen you like this before.” He started running his hands through Derek’s fur before he paused and looked the wolf in the eyes. “Can I?” Derek blinked at him and huffed. Smiling, Stiles proceeded to run his hands over every inch (well almost every inch) of Derek’s wolfy body. He had never seen a live wolf before, and he knew he would definitely never again get the chance to pet one, so he went all in on the opportunity. He methodically ran his fingers through the different levels of Derek’s coat, letting the repetitive motion continue to sooth him.

Stiles was broken from his reverie by Derek releasing a huge yawn of hot air in his face. “Oh, I totally woke up and you haven’t slept have you?” The wolf shook his head. “Well can I just keep petting you and you can sleep like this?” Derek cocked his head and looked to be considering it for a moment before he circled around on the bed once and settling down with his head in Stiles's lap. The human scratched gently along his spine and the wolf faded quickly into sleep.

Stiles watched Netflix for the next several hours, grateful Derek always left his computer next to the bed (when did he learn Derek's computer password?). Two rom-coms later, Derek woke to the loud rumbling of his stomach, as he hadn't had the heart to push him away to get lunch. He smiled sheepishly at the bleary, unimpressed look the wolf gave him before he leapt off the bed and shifted.

"Woah!" Stiles exclaimed as he lifted his hands in front his eyes. "Just because I don't get turned on doesn't mean seeing you naked isn't a bit too intimate too soon."

"Sorry." Derek grumbled as Stiles heard him pull on his pants. "I forget about stuff like that when I'm the wolf."

"Oh. You'll have to tell me what it's like sometime."

Derek, now fully clothed, gave him a small, intimate smile. "Sure."

Once lunch had been made and they were munching away Derek decided to broach the subject.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His brows were knit together in concern as he fixed Stiles with a gaze the young man tried hard to escape.

He wanted to lie, say of course and deflect with sarcasm, but this was Derek and Derek deserved for Stiles to answer him straight.

"No." He had to look away then, the memory of the attack still too intense for him to handle Derek's relentless gaze as well. "I've never had a non-verbal panic attack before. I don't even know if my inhaler would have helped. My mind just kept forcing images of Malia and Hayden into my head and then I started seeing Allison and she was asking me how I could have let the Nogitsune kill her and I just felt like my mind wasn't my own and my chest was burning, and I couldn't breath and then I couldn't speak."

Derek's stomach clenched. He didn't want to know the answer to his question but he needed to. "What would you have done if you had been alone?"

"I don't know. Find my inhaler, try to count to count to ten. Text you or Lydia probably. Don't know for sure though.” Stiles attempted a nonchalant shrug but he knew he was exuding anxiety and that fact alone made him more anxious.

“You’re not doing well are you?” Derek obviously knew the answer already, but apparently actual communication was something they were doing a lot more of now.

“I feel like I’m losing it Derek. Everyone’s getting hurt because of me. Again. It’s only a matter of time before-” “Don’t finish that sentence, Stiles. Don’t project.” Derek interrupted, practically growling.

“I’m just a liability.” Stiles finished with resignation.

“You’ve never been useless Stiles. You’ve always figured out what needed to be done and you kept everyone on the right track. Just because you’re human doesn’t mean you don’t have strength.”

Stiles gave him a watery smile before picking up his phone. “I should text Scott that we’re ready to go.”

Derek sighed in defeat. Stiles was starting to shut him out even as he was letting him in and if that wasn't just like his old self, Derek didn't know what was. In that moment he suddenly understood that he and Stiles had become unquestionably different people in the two years since they had last seen each other, and despite that his feelings for Stiles had only become more genuine. He may have told Stiles he wasn't sure he could make it work if sex wasn't involved, but in this moment he felt the weight of realization that Stiles might be it for him, whether or not he wanted him back. It sent a sharp tightness into his gut that was an unfamiliar combination of anxiety and elation.  

He was dragged out of his reverie by Stiles squeezing his hand tentatively. “You good? Scott’s ready for us to head over.”

Derek cleared his throat as the sensation in his gut was only intensified by the contact. “Uh yeah, let me just grab my keys.”

~~~~~~~~

If Derek was surprised that the hand-holding development seemed permanent he didn’t let himself show it when Stiles maintained his warm grip the entirety of the car ride and into the hospital. He was also thoroughly grateful when the other members of the pack clearly noticed but didn’t mention it. It had not escaped anyone’s notice that Stiles was becoming increasingly anxious with each passing day, and no one wanted to make him any more uncomfortable by embarrassing him about whatever was going on with Derek. Especially not when it seemed that Derek was the only person left who seemed to be able to comfort him.

“Okay,” Scott said as he arrived from Malia’s room. “Brett and Derek will be with Malia, Mason and Stiles will take Hayden. Hayden woke up for a little while, but she’s mostly just in pain and very tired. Malia hasn’t woken up yet, but my mom said her skull and other bones have fully healed now so it’s just a matter of time before her brain should get there too. She’s doing her best to deflect attention from how fast they’re healing, but they really need to be in the hospital, so there isn’t much we can do about exposure.” They could all hear the intensity with which Scott said it, the desperation for it to all be okay creeping into the tightness of his jaw as he smiled. They all clung to his half-empty optimism and parted ways.

Brett and Derek didn’t know each other well, only having had marginal interactions with one another during the Deadpool days, so they sat in awkward silence for a while as Derek held Malia’s hand and drained the pain he could feel sitting in her veins. Eventually the silence became awkward, and the point of being there in pairs was to talk with each other and amplify the sense of pack strength around Malia, so Derek pushed himself to channel Stiles’s ability to chat.

“So when did you join the pack?”

Brett looked pained for a while, before answering. “Satomi died during the conflict with the Dread Doctors. I had always told myself I would join Scott’s pack if that happened. He’s not the alpha that Satomi was, but I know he’s still young, and I know how he got his power. If I couldn’t be Satomi’s beta, I wanted to be his.”

Derek nodded, but when he didn’t offer more, Brett changed the subject “Stiles is different with you. More like he was when I first met him. More like he was before you left.” Derek cringed at that. “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t know what leaving would do to him. He didn’t even know, I don’t think. But I’m pretty sure you give Stiles the strength he needs to deal with all this. He smelled different when you were gone, like something was missing.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Some members have been in this pack so long that they don’t notice stuff about each other as individuals anymore, because they’re all too interconnected. I knew Stiles as just an average kid before I knew him as pack, and the differences are hard to miss. It’s like how your parents don’t notice you getting taller because they see you every day, but your aunts and uncles are always telling you how much you’ve grown.” He paused for a second. “Or so I’ve heard.”

Derek’s eyes widened and even though he had already heard Brett’s story, he realized for the first time that this kid had lost more than he had at a much younger age, and he suddenly felt compelled to stay for more than just Stiles.

“You’re strong.” He said. “You handled all that tragedy and you’re so…” Words were failing him.

“I had a pack to help me. You had a grieving sister and then no one. You don’t give yourself enough credit for what you’ve managed.” Brett gave him a small smile, and out of nowhere Derek suddenly felt impossibly hopeful: for himself, for Stiles, and for the situation. He smiled back.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Mason and Stiles were taking a significantly less intimate tact to their obligatory time together. Stiles had been mentally preparing himself for Mason to ask awkward questions about the developments with Derek in the last 24 hours. Mason had brought a chessboard.

Two hours into their shift, the third game of chess was underway. Occasionally Stiles would spout off another question he had about the LGBTQ population and Mason would answer in his typical, sanguine manner before popping out a question of his own about the police force and criminology. Eventually they were predicting each other’s moves, they ran out of questions, and the conversation turned to life as a human with a werewolf for a best friend.

“Scott was so in denial for such a long time. I think I was living a little vicariously through him, learning all I could learn about the supernatural. Then Peter offered me the bite and I realized I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m surprised I never figured it out for myself to be honest. But Liam isn’t much for sharing, so I didn’t really know what was going on inside him. I figured he would tell me when he was ready. My parents found out this summer, and I think they wish I’d ask Scott for the bite.”

Stiles looked up, startled. “Why would they want that?”

“They know how much danger I put myself into. I guess they figure I’d be safer if I could heal and whatnot.”

It wasn’t a new thought to Stiles by any means. He regularly had fleeting moments of desire to be stronger and faster, but in the end he couldn’t stomach the idea. As much as being only human had been his downfall their senior year, he couldn’t imagine being anything else.

“Somehow you seem to have avoided being a detriment to the pack despite it.”

Mason could detect the change in the mood almost before it happened and he regretted bringing it up. He remembered the downward spiral Stiles had entered his senior year and he knew very well that little he could say had any chance of making him feel better, but he figured he would try. “Look Stiles. Lydia and Scott have told me just about everything that’s happened with you guys since Scott was bitten, and I gotta say that you’ve done infinitely more good for this pack than you’ve ever caused harm and the harm you did wasn’t even your fault."

“That’s just it though!” Stiles exploded. “It’s not my fault! It’s totally out of anyone’s control and yet it’s still always me.”

Mason’s lips twitched up into a grim smile with sudden understanding. “You’re not angry because you’re a liability. You’re angry because you think you’re bad.”

Breath whooshed out of Stiles’s lungs so fast he saw spots. Mason was just as sharp as he was. “I’m not angry. I’m terrified.” He suddenly felt a hand reach out to grasp his weakly, and he looked up to see Hayden watching him with a sleepy smile on her face.

“We’ve all got some bad in us Stiles. Think about Liam. He fights his rage every day.” She closed her eyes and took a moment to regather her breath. “There’s an old Native American story about the ‘Tale of Two Wolves.’ You have two wolves that live inside of you: one for evil and one for good. The wolf that wins is the one that you feed.” Hayden took a few moments more to breath deeply, before finishing. “Your evil wolf might be a little hungrier than some people’s, Stiles, but you always try so hard not to feed it.”

Hayden fell asleep again then, but Stiles continued to grasp her hand, holding onto her words like a lifeline.

~~~~~~~~

When Stiles settled down to sleep that night, Derek sitting beside him on the bed gently scratching circles into his hair, he told him what Hayden had said.

“She’s a smart kid.” Derek spoke from experience, but didn’t want to say so. He wanted Stiles to come to his own conclusions.

  
“I’m afraid I’m feeding the evil wolf on accident.” Stiles’s voice was small with fear, and Derek shifted his hand to squeeze gentle pressure into the back of his neck, thumb pressed reassuringly into the crook of his jaw, until he fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	9. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to thehyacinthgirl for beta-ing and being the fastest email responder ever! This chapter has more violence and some irresponsible drug use.

Stiles remembered his nightmare for the first time that night.

_The Berserker dragged Derek out of the armored truck and threw him to the ground. Stiles leapt from the back and he watched the creature’s sabretooth weapon pierce the wolf’s chest repeatedly, straight through the heart. Derek was human now, and so so mortal as blood burst forth from his lips. He couldn’t look away even as Derek told him to go save his friend, but then Braeden was at the dying man’s side and Stiles forced himself to turn and enter The Church._

_After that, Derek’s ghost haunted him at every turn. He only ever appeared in his peripheral vision, and Stiles chased the contact to no avail. Back home after saving Scott, Derek appeared more and more frequently, telling Stiles to set him free, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. The longer Derek stayed the angrier he became, and Stiles could feel the darkness enveloping him, until he could no longer see anything around him but Derek’s shimmering form in the periphery._

_It wasn’t exactly frightening until suddenly Derek’s hand was on his throat, choking off breath and throttling his body side to side, demanding he set him free._

_Stiles began screaming at this phantom Derek to let him go, pleading with him that he couldn't breathe._

And then Stiles was bolting upright in his bed and Derek was shaking his shoulder as he did every night the Shimmer appeared, but this time Stiles turned eyes that were wide with fear on Derek and he shrank away from him. Derek let go immediately and pulled as far away from Stiles as he could without leaving the bed.

"Stiles, you're awake. This isn't a nightmare anymore." He felt like retching at the look of terror Stiles was directing his way.

Taking in fast, shallow breaths, Stiles looked down at one hand and counted each finger he put down, "1. 2. 3. 4. 5."

"Five fingers." Derek affirmed.

"Not dreaming." Stiles finished breathlessly.

He suddenly leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Derek's, hand reaching around to clench painfully at the base of his skull. Derek forced calm he didn't feel into his eyes as Stiles gaze pierced into them with a hungry intensity.

"You're real." His voice was hoarse and broken. "You're not dead. Not a ghost."

Derek matched Stiles pose by grasping the back of his head in return, holding him close. "I'm real. I'm not leaving."

~~~~~~~~

Derek was afraid to sleep and leave Stiles alone again, so he called Mason to come over. He had expected a fight when he proposed the idea, but Stiles had acquiesced easily, knowing it was for the best. The two spent the morning making lunches for the pack members, doing Stiles's laundry, and playing video games. Anything Mason could think of really to keep Stiles's mind occupied. It was not easy, but if anyone could pull it off it was him.

Afternoon came and Derek woke to Stiles sitting beside him in bed holding a cup of black coffee sweetened with honey. He saw a calm front flicker into place on the human’s face when he turned off his alarm and Stiles realized he was awake, but the scent of barely-suppressed panic still clung to him.

 He was sipping at the piping hot coffee when Stiles suddenly reached over and started brushing fingers through his hair. "You have so much bedhead today."

"I always have bedhead." He replied, trying to keep his voice calm even as his stomach danced under his skin. It seemed as though even in the heaviest of situations, Stiles always put his reassurance and safety first, which was completely ridiculous considering Derek couldn’t get hurt nearly as easily, but it never failed to make his heart pound a little faster.

“Yeah.” Stiles admitted with his first genuine smile in days. “But now I’m allowed to fix it.” Even as he said it though, Stiles gave Derek’s head a rough noogie before hopping off the bed and tossing clothes at the wolf. “You better get ready. We have to be at the hospital in half an hour.”

~~~~~~~~

Stiles could feel a heavy weight building in the pit of his stomach the closer they got to the hospital, but he had been so engulfed by anxiety that he simply attempted to push it down like always in his mission to remain sane. Parting with Derek to head towards Hayden’s room was more difficult than he expected, and Stiles found himself not wanting to let go of his hand as he tried to convey the feeling he was experiencing but couldn’t place.

“Be safe.” He settled on finally. Derek was never safe.

His sense of foreboding intensified for a while longer when suddenly they heard a crash from the direction of Malia's room. Ice filled Stiles's stomach as he bolted towards the room only to find the window shattered and Malia alone. Racing to the hole in the wall he looked out to see Derek attempting to restrain Brett, who was viciously clawing at every surface of Derek he could reach.

Stiles reached for his phone and dialed Scott without a second thought. He answered on the second ring and all Stiles could get out was "Scott, help."

"I'll be right there, Stiles." Was the immediate response and then the connection quit.

Stiles’s voice had apparently woken something in Brett, who looked up with a crazed expression at where he stood in the window. Stiles flicked his gaze to Derek who mouthed ‘Go’ to him in between blows from Brett’s claws. He shook his head in stubborn refusal to leave Derek, as though he could actually help him, but Brett didn’t miss the interaction and released a grating bark of laughter.

“Ah, he is important to you. Maybe this will work just as well.” The window was at a low enough level that Stiles could hear everything, and Brett sent a chilling to smile in his direction as he spoke directly to him.

“No!” Derek growled loudly as he lunged his claws in the direction of Brett’s neck. Before he could make contact though, Brett had pulled a pocket knife from his jacket and shoved it up underneath Derek’s ribs as deep as the short blade could reach. Purple fumes began curling out from the wound as Derek gasped and fell to his knees, eyes dimming rapidly.

“Derek!” Stiles's cry tore out of him and he turned and ripped through the hallways towards the exit nearest the two wolves. He was running haphazardly in the direction of Derek when Scott appeared out of nowhere and restrained him by his shoulders.

“Stiles, stop!” Stiles continued to struggle, ignoring the alpha until Scott flashed his red eyes and he was forced to calm slightly. “Derek needs Deaton. Go get your car and Liam and I will deal with Brett.”

Stiles turned toward the parking lot without another thought before turning back and yelling, “His knife has wolfsbane, Scott. Be careful.”

By the time he had found his car and sped over to the scene, Scott had managed to knock Brett out and Liam was closing the pocket knife gingerly, careful to avoid the wolfsbane. Stiles chest constricted painfully when he saw that Derek’s skin was beginning to turn a ghastly grey color and his breathing was labored.

“Get him in the back seat, Liam. I’ll deal with things here.” Scott instructed the youngest beta. Together, Stiles and Liam lifted Derek’s limp figure into the back seat and Liam tried to staunch the bleeding while Stiles pushed the speed limit to get to Deaton’s. He forced himself to shove his panic and shaking hands aside just long enough to get them to the clinic.

Deaton met them around the back with a gurney he kept just for these emergencies and he hurriedly pulled Derek up onto it. “Wolfsbane.” He said grimly as they pushed Derek into the treatment room. “Scott said you have the knife Brett stabbed him with. Does it have any left on it?”

Liam pulled it out of his pocket delicately and passed it to Deaton, taking great care to get none on his skin. Deaton set about stirring the blade in a random jar of liquid as Stiles gripped Derek’s limp hands with his shaking ones. The wolf’s breathing had turned into a harsh rattle during the car ride and he had begun to sweat profusely. Stiles was just about to ask Deaton what was taking so long when suddenly he was on the other side of the gurney and pressing a long needled syringe straight into Derek’s heart.

His chest convulsed off the gurney and he released a pained gasp before slumping back down, still unconscious. Deaton cleaned the knife wound of residual wolfsbane and covered it with a tight dressing before transferring him to the hard metal table with Liam.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Stiles voice cracked with fear but he didn’t even notice. He couldn’t lose Derek now. Not when he’d just gotten him back. Not when he was just starting to realize that he didn’t just need him to stay, he wanted him to.

Deaton let out an uncharacteristically heavy sigh. “Yes, but I don’t know how long it will be before the antidote starts working and he heals. Evolved wolves generally heal faster, but that was a highly aggressive strain of wolfsbane Brett used. I don’t even know where he got it. I was about to head up north to meet with a coven who might have more information about the Necromancer, but I’ll stay with him overnight so someone’s here if he wakes up.”

“No, I’ll stay. Getting information is too important.” Stiles couldn’t bear the thought of Derek waking up to someone other than him.

“Stiles are you sure? You’re not looking too well yourself.”

“I’m fine. He stays with me, and I stay with him. I’ll just go home quick and get some coffee and work to keep me awake. I’ll drop Liam at home on the way.”

Deaton looked skeptical, but years of experience had taught him that arguing with Stiles about protecting his friends was usually done in vain.

~~~~~~~~

After filling a thermos with double strong coffee and grabbing some research and his bottle of Adderall, Stiles was on his way back to Deaton’s. He could feel the walls closing in around him and his head felt like it was spinning while he sat by Derek’s side as the evening ticked away. By the time night fell, he had refilled his thermos, taken an unprecedented amount of Adderall to try and keep his mind clear and driven through website after website of information he had already read about the Necromancer.

Nothing new came up anywhere he looked, Derek’s wound still looked like it was oozing, though the blood was a decidedly normal red, and Scott had just called to tell him that Brett had finally woken up. Apparently the Necromancer’s tack had changed and instead of sending a spirit to get Brett to hurt himself, the spirit had been convincing him to hurt pack members. Brett had already been under her influence for several hours, preparing the blade no doubt, before he had even reached the hospital. His intentions were to kill Malia and break Derek’s spirit by taking more family from him. When his grandfather’s spirit realized how much Derek meant to Stiles, the he had made Brett try to kill Derek instead.

Stiles ended the call with a yawn and he took another two Adderall with his coffee to try and make it through the rest of the night. Tipping the bottle over he realized he was almost out and wow, he had taken more than he’d thought. The dose hit him quickly, but instead of making his mind clearer and more alert, the room became fuzzy and the tremors in his hands picked up. He tried holding Derek’s hand to still them, but the shaking only intensified and he couldn’t maintain his grip. Panic overcame him as the room began spinning and he collapsed back into his chair. Grasping for his phone he managed to press the ‘Emergency Call’ button and sputter out that he needed an ambulance at the vet clinic before the world closed in around him and everything was dark.

~~~~~~~~

His body felt heavy as Derek began to re-enter consciousness, but his wound felt healed and only a hangover like effect was left of the wolfsbane. Derek could hear Stiles as he finished a call to Scott, but he was still too bleary to make out the conversation. All he could tell was that Stiles sounded resigned and his scent was an acrid mixture of anxiety and stimulants.

Recognition that he could smell stimulants so strongly registered in Derek’s mind as a very bad thing, especially as he could hear Stiles open his Adderall bottle. It sounded a lot emptier than it should have given how much he’d had left that morning. He could hear Stiles’s heart now, painfully fast and growing erratic. Derek frantically fought to bring his mind to the surface but he couldn’t yet, the wolfsbane slowing his recuperative abilities even with the antidote he must have been given.

Panic swelled in his gut as he felt Stiles grab at his fingers with hands rendered ineffectual by tremors and it was the last shock he needed to push through his wolfsbane induced paralysis. Derek lunged for the phone Stiles had just dropped and yelled frantically into it.

“Hello?”

“Sir? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s my friend. We’re at Alan Deaton’s vet clinic. I think he overdosed on Adderall.”

“An ambulance has already been dispatched. Can you find a heartbeat?”

Derek pretended to take a moment to find the heartbeat he could already hear coming out faint and fast. “Yes I found it. It’s fast and weak.”

“Okay sir. If you have no reason to believe he’s suffered spinal trauma, please get him on his back so that his head is even with his heart.”

Derek picked up Stiles and carried him out to the front of Deaton’s before laying him on the concrete. He had grabbed Stiles’s flannel as well and buttoned it up himself. Derek had dealt with enough crises to keep focused and realize he didn’t need the paramedics or the police wondering why he had been shirtless in the vet clinic with the sheriff’s son while he overdosed on amphetamines.

A minute later he heard the sirens and saw the lights barreling down the dark street. Stiles vitals were taken and he was loaded into the truck. Derek sat and stared in numb horror as the paramedics poked and prodded at Stiles’s too-pale body and he listened desperately for the heartbeat he could now only barely hear.

Lydia was waiting for him at the ER waiting room, horror and confusion on her face.

“Stiles?” She had a bond with Stiles the likes of which he hadn’t seen since Allison was alive, and the fact that she was at the waiting room before he even arrived was not good. He nodded dumbly. “The voices are really loud Derek. I don’t know if I can keep the scream in this time.” Tears began spilling over her ashen cheeks as her nose began to bleed.

“Scream Lydia.” Derek said in grief riddled resignation, dabbing at the blood with his thumb. “We can’t do anything for him, but we can’t lose you too.” He reached down to clutch her hand in unified anguish and the scream ripped out of her throat as though it was the final permission she needed.

The air in the hospital seemed to explode like Derek had never seen before, and he realized with a strange amalgamation of relief and terror that this scream was not for Stiles but for the portal. As quickly as it started with Lydia’s scream, it stopped when she fell silent. The patients and loved ones sitting in the waiting room stared at her with looks ranging from pity and concern to annoyance and anger, none gratefully seeming to have noticed the supernatural quality of what had just occurred.

“Sorry.” Lydia said to the onlookers, giving a weak smile. “Hospitals give me a lot of anxiety.” People more or less seemed to accept this and they crept away to the farthest corner of the room.

“That was the portal.” Lydia whispered urgently. “I thought Stiles was dying, but it was the spirits making all the noise. The wedge must be wider because he’s unconscious.”

“But what happens now? The Necromancer said this portal was going to help her reclaim Beacon Hills for the supernatural.” Derek and Lydia glanced around the ER and noted that not a thing seemed out of the ordinary.

“I’ll call Scott and tell him what happened. Have him get the pack scouting town for anything strange. You call the Sheriff and tell him what happened with Stiles. We’ll wait here until we hear word about him.” Sadness creeped into her voice again as the memory of why they were at the hospital suddenly flooded through her again. He squeezed her hand reassuringly for a moment before grabbing his phone and walking off to call the Sheriff.

~~~~~~~~

When John arrived at the ER and found Derek, he was pale and trembling vaguely. Derek stood rigidly when he arrived, prepared to either be yelled at or told to get lost but instead the Sheriff reached in and gathered him in a weary, desperate hug. Though taken by surprise, Derek found it surprisingly easy to return the affectionate and comforting gesture and realized that this man had long since ceased thinking of him as the enemy.

They waited in agonized silence for another hour before a doctor came out to speak with them.

“We’ve managed to stabilize his vitals, but we aren’t sure of his condition yet. We don’t know exactly how much Adderall he took, not to mention what other stimulants he might have put in his system, but we gave him Chlorpromazine to counteract its effects as much as possible. He’s lucky he thought to call 911 so quickly. He suffered circulatory collapse almost as soon as we got him in a room and if he’d still been in the ambulance he wouldn’t have made it. His blood pressure was incredibly low when he got here, so once we stabilized his condition we got him in an MRI to see if his brain had suffered any damage. The images looked normal, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“Are we allowed to wait with him until then?” The Sheriff sounded absolutely wrecked.

She looked unsure. “Just you or?” She glanced uncertainly between Derek and Lydia.

“I’d like Derek with me. Stiles will want him there when he wakes.” The Sheriff looked suddenly apologetic. “Sorry Lydia.

She gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay Sheriff. He gets me year round.”

The doctor led them back to the ICU and gave them a few instructions before letting them into the room. Stiles looked vaguely grey as he lay covered in blankets and puffing steady breaths of air into his oxygen mask. An IV dripped fluid into his left arm and heart rate monitors ran under his gown.

“Oh God,” the Sheriff murmured as he rushed to pull a chair next to the bed. “How could he do this to me? How could he do something so stupid?”

Derek wished he could say the the signs of Stiles’s imminent breakdown had been there for a while, but he knew very well how good Stiles was at hiding his inner turmoil from his father. He  berated himself for not intervening sooner, but he really wasn’t sure what he could have done. Instead of replying, he sat opposite the Sheriff and they sat in silence, each holding one of Stiles’s hands.

~~~~~~~~

They rotated through shifts of sleeping and eating, during which times Derek checked in with the pack to see what was happening in Beacon Hills now that the portal had been opened. Nothing initially seemed wrong, but Lydia was slowly discovering she could just faintly hear the voices from Limbo when she neared certain areas which would decrease in volume the farther away she moved. They were in the process of investigating just how specific this radar of hers could be, and Scott promised to fill Derek in on their findings the next time he called.

~~~~~~~~

About 18 hours after Stiles had arrived at the ER, Derek felt a twitching of fingers in his hand and he looked up expectantly. Stiles blinked his eyes open slowly before turning his head a fraction to glance at Derek. Closing his eyes wearily he reached up to fumble briefly with his mask before Derek helped him pull it off.

"Derek." He said weakly, relief filling his voice. "You're better."

Derek tried to chuckle at the ridiculousness of that statement but it came out as more of a hysterical squeak. "What were you thinking, Stiles? You almost died." Stiles's lips parted at that, his eyes widening in shock. "We'll talk in a bit. I have to call the doctor."

He picked up the hospital room phone and dialed the extension Dr. Burns had given him. She picked up promptly and promised to be there soon. They sat in tense silence as they waited, Stiles afraid of Derek’s anger and Derek afraid of bursting into tears of relief. When Dr. Burns arrived, she requested Derek wait for her to finish in the waiting area and though Stiles tried protesting, she wouldn't have it, and Derek reluctantly exited the room.

The Sheriff was getting off the elevator as he was passing, and relief flickered over his features before he checked them, as though afraid to get too hopeful. “He’s awake?”

Derek nodded. “Dr. Burns wouldn’t let me stay while she checked him over though, so I don’t exactly know how he his.”

The Sheriff let his head fall back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, attempting and failing to quell the leaking tears. “I don’t even think I care, Derek. If he’s still normal. I just can’t lose him too.”

“I know, Sir.” Derek took a shuddering breath. “I can’t either.”

They stood in wait for a while longer before Dr. Burns came to bring them back to Stiles’s room, informing them along the way that Stiles had given her permission to tell them his condition.

Back in the room she began to explain. “Largely, his cognitive abilities seem unaffected by the hypoxia he suffered due to the circulatory collapse. I haven’t had him get out of bed yet, but his gross motor skills seem fairly normal. It does seem that his fine motor skills have been affected some, which is normal and usually temporary in mild cases of hypoxia to the brain. We’re going to have an occupational therapist see him first thing tomorrow morning for an evaluation. For now he has permission to eat soft foods like pudding and yogurt, but he won’t be able to manage the utensils himself for a while so he’ll need help eating. I’d like to keep him here for a day or two just to make sure his system flushes the drugs out fully and his heart is doing well. Before he gets discharged we’ll be having a conversation about what happened and controlling his access.”

The Sheriff nodded grimly. “Thank you, doctor.” She left the room then, closing the door behind her, and Sheriff practically jumped to Stiles’s sided pulling him up into a hug and running his hands repeatedly through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Stiles was babbling into his dad’s ear, tears pouring down his cheeks as his chest heaved through his sobs. “It was an accident. Derek got hurt and I wanted to take care of him and I just wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright. You’re alright. We’ll take care of you. Just be careful, okay?”

Stiles nodded his head into his father’s neck and two clung to each other for a while longer before the Sheriff settled him back against his pillow. He didn’t ask about what happened. He knew his son had been hiding something from him, just like he always did, but he also knew that Stiles would eventually tell him everything once he felt safe again. John knew he couldn’t protect Stiles from all of the supernatural occurrences, and Stiles knew his father would drive himself insane with worry if he knew everything his son was going through before it was resolved. It was a sort of I-O-U truth telling system and it generally worked pretty well.

They sat in silence for a while until the Sheriff’s radio went off, requesting he come in for a patrol shift. He sighed, but stood, gripped Derek’s shoulder reassuringly, and ruffled his son’s hair before heading out the door.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice sounded broken. “Why weren’t you more careful?”

“Derek I’m sorry. I wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have been alone. Everything was getting so messed up and then Brett stabbed you and I just kind of broke.” Stiles was staring resolutely at the door, unable to meet Derek’s eye, as though ashamed of himself. “Deaton said he would stay with you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of letting someone else be there for you because I couldn’t do it. I know it was hard on you when all this started and you thought you were just my guard dog and I still just saw you as the same old Derek. But Derek, I care too much about you. The thought that someone could think just anyone would be good enough for you made me so-” His voice drifted away helplessly.

Wonderment filled Derek’s eyes and his pursed lips parted slightly. “Stiles, are you saying..?” He finished prematurely, letting his question hang ambiguously.

Stiles finally turned to face him, his honey-colored eyes earnest and forceful. “I want you, Derek. I want to be with you. I didn't realize how much, but then I thought you were going to die and all I could think about was that I told you to be safe instead of getting my head out of my ass and telling you I like you. And then everything just fell apart and I wasn’t paying attention because I was just so focused on finally trying to take care of you that I did exactly the opposite.”

“You like me.” Derek repeated softly, a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I’m not Scott.”

Stiles stared at him as though he was an alien before his cheeks split into a blissful grin. “You’re definitely not Scott or Lydia. Just Derek.” He paused briefly before finishing. “My Derek.”

His heart was so steady and calm as he said it, the honesty so pure, that Derek’s own accelerated two-fold in his chest. He reached out and took Stiles’s hand in both of his and they let the momentary stillness engulf them in calm contentment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll find out what's going down in Beacon Hills next chapter.
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	10. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that Teen Wolf has already taken liberties with banshee mythology, I did the same. This chapter is also the history of Beacon Hills and the Hale pack that no one asked for but I hope you all like! Thanks again to thehyacinthgirl for keeping the story consistent :)

They chatted about nothing in particular for a while, reveling in the fact that was something they could do now without pretense or hesitation, before Stiles fell quiet, a pensive look on his face.

"The portal opened." Derek provided, knowing what he was thinking.

"What's the prognosis?"

"Some trouble has started up here and there around town. Aggressive behavior and violence from random town members who have no record. Lydia is able to hear clusters of voices in various neighborhoods around the town. She's started mapping them out, but she'll probably want your help looking for a pattern. We'll need cooperation from your dad and Parrish too, see if the people getting arrested live in the clusters."

"I'll talk to him in the morning when he visits after his shift. I should've figured I couldn't avoid getting him involved forever.”

“Stiles.” Derek said firmly, giving Stiles’s hand a comforting squeeze. “We’re going to figure this out.”

A knock came at the door then, and a nurse peaked his head in to remind Derek that visiting hours were over and he needed to leave now that Stiles was stable. Derek looked unhappy but Stiles ran his thumb over the back of his hand before nodding his head towards the door with a smile. “Go. We could both stand to get a legitimate night of sleep for once.”

Derek stood and hesitated briefly before leaning over and placing a soft kiss on Stiles’s forehead. He turned away quickly to hide the pink in his cheeks. “Goodnight Stiles.”

He smirked to himself a little as he heard Stiles’s heart pick up minutely at the intimate gesture and stutter out, “N-night, Derek.”

Stiles watched Derek’s back in astonishment as he left the hospital room. The kiss had been chaste as could be but it had still made his heart speed up with a rush of feeling. Derek kisses were a thing now. He could kiss Derek if he wanted to. He chuckled ironically to himself at the thought. If he wanted to was definitely starting to feel like when he wanted to.

~~~~~~~~

Derek slept at a natural time for the first time in weeks and woke surprisingly rested. Scott sent out a group text a few hours later saying Deaton was back and wanted to meet with everyone ASAP at the clinic.

An hour later everyone but Stiles was gathered around the familiar metal table and Deaton stood at the head like the family elder. “I have a lot to tell you all, and some of it is fairly complicated so just try to bare with me and hold questions until I’ve finished.” The pack nodded in assent, many of them already beginning to look uneasy, so Deaton continued.

“I departed with so little notice because I was contacted by an order called the Keepers. They keep themselves very secret to avoid emissaries needlessly calling upon their services, and they only reach out when they hear of circumstances where their knowledge is required. Technically, emissaries know everything about the pack they serve and its territory, but that’s really not the case, especially for special territories like Beacon Hills that hold so much supernatural significance due to the convergence of telluric currents.” Deaton levelled Derek with a significant look before directing the next statement mainly at him.

“As you know, the Hale family has been responsible for guarding Beacon Hills for a very long time. They are in charge of helping new werewolves and trying to keep a balance in the area. When the area that is Beacon Hills was first inhabited, long before California became a state, it was mostly just a space co-habitated by a wide variety of supernatural beings all drawn here by the currents. When the Hale pack arrived, there was a good deal of infighting occurring regarding how humans would be dealt with as people started settling here. Werewolves have been widely respected creatures for a long while, and the Hale pack was expansive and had a reputation. Rather than challenge them for authority, the other creatures of Beacon Hills more or less resigned control to the Hales, who decided that supernaturals and humans would coexist here peacefully."

“This was more or less successful thanks to close coordination between local human law enforcement and the Hale pack until our Necromancer showed up in the early 1900s.”

“Wait.” Kira interrupted. “Our Necromancer? The one who cursed Stiles?”

“One and the same. Her name is apparently Mina, and she believes very strongly that Beacon Hills should only belong to the supernatural. Alone, she wasn’t powerful enough to challenge the Hale pack and so she attempted to rally the supernatural creatures who had relinquished their original control over the territory to stand with her and her spirits in a coup. She gained a very loyal group of followers and she would have been successful had a small coven of banshees not betrayed her and used their own powers connected to the spirit world to bind her magic."

Lydia looked at Deaton in wonder. "Banshees can do that?" She sounded dazed.

"This particular family of banshees can do that." Deaton offered her that mysterious smile of his. "Your family has been in Beacon Hills since its inception. They tried leaving, but the Nemeton called your grandmother back. Not all banshees are created equal and some bare the powers they are given better than others. The Keepers told me that you are beginning to manifest what they call fully-realized powers. You could compare it to Derek's evolved wolf form."

Lydia's eyes filled with trepidation as the weight of the revelation set in. "So I have to get rid of the necromancer."

Deaton nodded. "And the spirits that came through the portal. The Keepers believe that Mina resurrected the spirits of the factions of supernatural creatures that agreed to follow her and were put to death under the laws of the original Beacon Hills. Of course it's entirely possible she brought back any supernatural spirit she could."

"The original Beacon Hills?" Mason asked.

"Part of the purpose of the Keepers is to keep information like this a secret. After Mina's powers were sealed and the defecting factions put to death, they came to Beacon Hills and obliterated all memory of supernatural creatures from the humans, leaving only the Hale alpha with knowledge of the pack's purpose." Deaton looked again to Derek. "You would have acquired this information when you took Peter's alpha spark, but he didn't have the information anymore. The Keepers deemed Peter too dangerous to possess the information, so they took the information out of the Hale alpha Spark when he stole it from Laura."

"So when this is all over-" Scott broke in tentatively.

"The Keepers will take the memory from us. Though I don't know if they'll leave the knowledge with you, given that an alpha is supposed to know. It's also possible they will return the information to its birthright and allow Derek to remember."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Said Lydia, bringing them all back to the real task at hand.

Deaton pulled out a very small leather book. "They gave me this with the express promise they would take it back as soon as you'd gotten what you needed from it. As far as the Keepers know, this book contains a record of every single fully-realized banshee they have ever encountered. They have never heard of a necromancer opening a portal to pull back supernatural spirits, but banshees have been opposing Necromancers since the beginning of time, so they believe that book must contain some record that will help you.”

Lydia looked up at Deaton with an expression of overwhelmed skepticism before Scott spoke up again.

“So what do we do while she’s trying to figure that out?”

“Continue scouting the town. Try to keep an eye out on the clusters Lydia identified and do your best to keep those possessed from harming people. I’ll alert the sheriff to make sure his deputies are on high alert. You all should continue to guard Stiles as well. We have no idea what the status of the portal still is and it’s possible he may still be vulnerable to the necromancer in some way.”

Scott nodded. “Alright, Derek will go back to the hospital to check on Stiles and fill him in. My mom also just texted me and told me Malia’s finally awake, so Liam why don’t you go with him and you can visit her and Hayden. Mason, why don’t you head back to Lydia’s house with her and help her keep track of the stuff she learns from that book. Brett and Ethan, you keep an eye on the south side of town, and Kira and I will scout the north side. I’ll let Parrish know what’s going on and ask the Sheriff to have him patrolling the East clusters. We’ll have to rotate through the sections since we don’t have enough people to cover them all.”

Brett spoke up at that. “I can ask my sister if her pack will help us. They aren’t much for fighting, but they want to keep the peace in Beacon Hills too, and they can probably hold their own well enough.”

Scott nodded at him. “Have the alpha contact me.”

~~~~~~~~

Liam was very quiet on the car ride over and Derek realized the last time he’d had real contact with the kid, he was helping him control his first unrestrained shift. He had come a long way since then.

“How’s Hayden doing?” Derek felt a little guilty that he hadn’t paid any attention to the other injured pack since Stiles had gone to the ER.

“They found a kidney for her yesterday. She’s in the recovery ward today, and her sister says she’s doing ‘miraculously well’ right now.” Liam’s face cracked into a long overdue smile. “I guess the Chimera aspect of her is helping her body accept the foreign kidney. I’ll never be grateful for what the Dread Doctors did to her, but it did allow her to stop taking the anti-rejection meds and that saved her sister a lot of money.”

“Well that’s great then. She should be able to leave the hospital soon then.”

Liam was quiet for a while. “I-I never got a chance to thank you for helping me control my shift on that trip down to the Church.” Liam looked up at him timidly. “So thank you.”

Derek smiled shyly at that. “You shouldn’t be thanking me. My way was failing. Stiles figured out how to help you.”

“You both did.” The young beta said firmly. “You’re a good team. I’m glad you came back. He wasn’t the same without you.”

“So people keep telling me.” Derek said quietly. It should make him happy, that he brought out something good in Stiles, but it mostly made him sad that he’d contributed to so much pain.

~~~~~~~~

The sheriff was helping Stiles eat his breakfast when Derek arrived. He couldn’t help but indulge himself and watch the sheriff spoon feed Stiles oatmeal like he was an infant again, occasionally missing his mouth and having to catch the fallen food off his chin with the spoon. Though Derek understood the true weight of the situation, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the exasperated facial expressions Stiles kept making.

Stiles lit up when Derek opened the door and the sheriff stood quickly.

“About damn time,” he exclaimed while pulling Derek into a firm hug. The whole situation was making Derek absurdly embarrassed. As the sheriff pulled away he smiled conspiratorially at Derek. “He may not have realized what he was doing, but he’s been mooning over you for who knows how long.”

Now it was Stiles’s turn to be embarrassed as he turned every shade of red possible in the span of a few seconds. “Oh my God, dad, can you not? Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Think of it as payback for scaring the shit out of us.” The Sheriff shot back, only half-jokingly. “Do you have anything new for us, Derek?”

“Um, yeah actually. Scott said he was going to call you, but we’re going to need you to make sure you keep your deputies on high alert. The calls they report to are probably going to be more dangerous than they expect. And he wants you to put Parrish out on patrol in the East part of town. I think Parrish has already been filled in on the situation. He just needs orders from you.”

“How dangerous are we talking?”

Derek shook his head, uncertainty in his eyes. He didn’t need to give more of an answer than that. The Sheriff nodded grimly before kissing his son goodbye and heading out.

Derek stood in his place, observing Stiles still-red countenance with a bit of smirk as he raised his eyebrows waggishly. “You _mooned_ over me?” Special emphasis on moon. “That’s a bit ironic.”

“Ha-ha, so clever.” Stiles deflected with mock irritation.

“You have less tubes today.” Derek noted.

That made Stiles actually smile. “Yeah! Now that I can eat and drink they took all the tubes out except for the heart rate monitor.” He wagged his right finger to indicate the small device while simultaneously scooting to one side of the bed. “Come lie down.”

Derek would have argued about how small the bed was, but he knew Stiles would to manage to get his way anyhow, so he didn’t bother, instead scooching awkwardly into the small space beside Stiles.

“What did the therapist say?”

“I have indeed managed to ruin some of my fine motor skills. Can’t write worth a damn or hold a utensil.” He sighed heavily. “She’s thinking it shouldn’t be permanent, because the hypoxia wasn’t that bad and only the finest of my motor skills were damaged. I still have all these little exercises I have to do, though, because if I don’t force my brain to make them work, it’ll definitely be permanent.”

The downtrodden tilt to his voice crumpled Derek’s heart and he reached across Stiles to run a hand through his hair. Stiles turned to look at him for a moment and Derek barely had time to appreciate how bright his eyes were at this distance before Stiles was lunging forward and pressing their lips together. It was a chaste, close-lipped kiss but Derek felt like he wanted to drown in the soft warmth of Stiles’s lips. A simple kiss hadn’t felt so light and good in so long and he didn’t want it to end, but he was also determined to let Stiles have control of the pace of their physical relationship, so he didn’t chase the contact when he pulled away.

They simply lay there for a while, absorbing the feelings swirling between them. Derek was holding his breath, hoping Stiles would want more, but also preparing for a more disappointing verdict. The breath stuttered out him in relief when Stiles unleashed a blinding smile at him.

“That was nice. I want to do that again when I get out of here.” He seemed to take a moment to think harder about it before saying, “Just kissing though.”

Derek smiled widely before placing one last small kiss on the tip of Stiles’s nose, making it crinkle adorably. “Deal.”

They lay pressed together in soothing warmth for a while when Derek suddenly remembered something. “Malia’s awake. And Hayden got her kidney. I think they’re both going to be okay.”

Relief flooded Stiles’s face and he rubbed his forehead against Derek’s slowly, as though confirming they were both really there and okay. Knowing the kind of comfort he gave Stiles compelled Derek to share something he'd never told anyone.

"I wasn't expecting to ever be able to tell you, but you're my anchor, Stiles."

His eyes opened rapidly to stare at Derek in something akin to awe and disbelief. "How long?" He whispered.

"I think it started being you after the alpha pack made me kill Boyd, and you were the only one to think to comfort me." Derek closed his eyes tightly for a moment, swallowing thickly against the painful memory. "And then I was sure when Kate abducted me and I dreamed about asking you to help me figure out if I was dreaming."

Stiles thought back to the last nightmare he'd had, remembering Derek helping him count his fingers. "Was it the extra fingers?" Derek nodded and Stiles placed his fingers to Derek's cheek one at a time, mouthing the numbers as he went. Once the last finger was down he smiled contentedly as he stroked his fingertips lightly across Derek's stubble. "At least know we aren't dreaming this."

Derek regretted having to break the beautiful calm of just being together in the moment but he needed to know. "When are they discharging you?"  

"If my heart is steady through the rest of the day, I get to go home tonight."

"Deaton learned lots of stuff about the necromancer and he wants us to keep guarding you." Derek continued on to delve into the history of Beacon Hills and how the responsibility to solve the problem had fallen on Lydia's shoulders.

“You need to be careful Derek. I don't know how she hasn't figured out you're a Hale yet, but if she does, she's going to want to kill you.”

“She wants to kill a lot of people Stiles. She literally wants to kill the entire human population of Beacon Hills.”

“Will you come stay with my dad and me when I’m discharged anyway? My dad won’t mind, and I’d feel better if you were there. You can even sleep in my bed with me in it.” He added wickedly. “Literal sleeping though. No figurative sleeping.”

“You don’t have to keep saying stuff like that Stiles. I’m not going to assume you want to sleep with me just because you’ve started to like kissing.” Derek reached up to stroke Stiles’s cheek quickly. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll come over.” He felt too shy to add that it made him feel better too, but he felt sure Stiles knew.

They spent the day alternating between watching movies, playing solitaire, and Skyping with Lydia and Mason to puzzle through new findings from the banshee book.

“The way I understand it, a banshee who has fully-realized her powers hasn’t necessarily discovered everything she is capable of but has integrated her ability to channel the spirit world so thoroughly into her being that she is capable of accessing her abilities precisely when they are needed. I figure that the catatonia Theo pushed me into our senior year gave me the ability to do that, which was why I was able to use those force-fields for the first time to try and escape. My life was in danger and I accessed a power that would save me.”

“So is there some kind of power that you can use to undo what the necromancer did?”

“Well Deaton told me that the coven that bound her powers all those years ago did so by combining their energy and pulling her magic out of her and sealing it in the Nemeton. As you can imagine, when we reactivated the Nemeton we also released her magic, much like we released the Nogitsune. Why she’s only come back now, I don’t know. Anyway, usually banshees’ powers allow them to locate and go to spiritual energy, but if they harness their powers properly they can also draw spirits and other deathly energies towards them. None of the banshees in the coven that bound Mina’s powers to the Nemeton were fully-recognized, so they were only powerful enough, even combined, to take her magic out of her and seal it away on the earthly plane, but I think that I can use the Nemeton to send both the spirits and her magic back to the spiritual plane.”

“You think?” Said Derek with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

Lydia looked surprisingly sheepish at that. “Yeah. I think. I’ve never actually used my powers like that. So I think I need to practice.”

“That sounds strangely like Lydia Martin putting herself in direct harm’s way without a good plan to save herself.” Stiles interjected sarcastically.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” Lydia shot back harshly. “I’ve always been in danger, Stiles. The only difference now is that it’s my job to save the day this time. Scott, Jordan, and Deaton are going with me to the smallest cluster on the south side today and I’m going to see if I can pull the spirits out of those people. I’ll contact you as soon as we know how it went.” She hung up before Stiles could argue some more, and he just stared at the computer screen as though he could strangle Lydia through it.

Derek coiled his arm around Stiles's waist to find his body literally buzzing with fear or anger and probably both. “She needs to do this Stiles.” He spoke as soothingly as he knew how.

Keeping Stiles distracted after that was more difficult and he eventually settled for convincing Stiles to take a nap by saying he would too. They were woken sometime later by a call from Scott. Lydia had succeeded in pulling the spirits from their hosts temporarily but had been unable to remotely send them to the Nemeton. "We're going to try it directly from the Nemeton now." He finished.

"Please be safe out there, Scott. We have no idea if that's where she's camping out.”

“We will. We're taking Kira and Brett with us too. Brett's old pack is watching town."

After some final check ups and a firm discussion about proper medicating, Stiles was sent home that night. The three ate dinner together and Derek felt his heart swell a little at the thought he could be part of a family again. As long as he and Stiles both wanted that anyway. After dinner, Stiles was feeling drowsy, but he insisted upon staying awake until Scott had let them know if Lydia had succeeded and was okay. His persistence resulted in the both of them watching “The Shining” while tangled together under a blanket that made Derek too warm but he didn’t say anything because Stiles kept clutching it to him at the scary parts.

He practically fell out of bed in shock when Derek’s phone rang near the end of the movie. The wolf gave a few monosyllabic answers and then hung up, smiling over at Stiles.

“She did it. Scott said it took her a while to figure out, but she did it.”

Stiles looked absolutely exuberant. “That’s great! So she’s going to fix this?”

“Well. Pulling back that one small cluster pretty much wiped her out. She’s either going to need to pull the clusters out one at a time or find a way to harness something else’s energy.”

“Can she use the Nemeton?”

“She said she doesn’t know how, but she’s going to do some research with Deaton on harnessing the power in the tellurian currents. But now we at least know she can fix this, even if it’s slow going.”

Stiles was absolutely giddy and he reached out to shake Derek by the shoulders in excitement before remembering his earlier promise and his smile turned playful.

“Remember what I said in the hospital this morning?”

Derek lifted an amused eyebrow and smiled just enough to reveal his bunny teeth. “Remind me.”

Stiles licked his lips out of habit before leaning in tentatively and pressing them to Derek’s. He’d done this just this morning, but it suddenly felt much more intimate and his heart began pounding with nerves and Derek pulled away, looking concerned.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“I think so.” He shook his head as though it would clear his mind. “I thought so. I want this, but it just feels way more intense here, in my house. My bed.”

Derek gripped Stiles’s chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, turning him gently to face him. “Stiles, you trust me right?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust that I’m not going to push you. It doesn’t matter where we are, you have the reigns.”

Stiles’s smile returned before he dove back in pressing his mouth firmly to Derek’s. It was harder than the kiss in the hospital, slightly more urgent, but Derek didn’t press further. His hands stayed at his side and his lips moved only in tandem with the movements Stiles made. Eventually, Stiles seemed to grow impatient and he made a little humming sound as he dipped his tongue out of his mouth and traced Derek’s bottom lip. Derek almost stifled the moan that surged up but decided not to bother as he opened his mouth to Stiles’s tongue. He tasted just like he smelled, of cinnamon and stimulants (blessedly less strongly than he had smelled a few days before), and Derek wanted to hold onto it forever.

He groaned as Stiles pulled at his lower lip with his teeth and the sensation shot straight down. He pulled away, breathing heavily, the feeling building in his groin overwhelmingly.

“Too-too much.” He breathed out, his cheeks red at how fast Stiles had gotten to him.

Stiles chuckled wickedly. “It’s okay. Glad to know what gets you going.”

Derek’s blush deepened. “Was that good for you too?” He sounded so shy, it made Stiles want to coddle him.

“It was... getting there. It was enough for me. Perfect.” He smiled before pressing a light kiss to the stubble at the corner of Derek’s jaw. “Let’s go to bed to now.”

~~~~~~~~

They had settled in for the night and Derek could hear Stiles starting to drift off when suddenly his body began to feel heavy and he couldn’t move his limbs. He watched in horror as Stiles was lifted out of bed by nebulous, glowing forms and carried outside through his open window. Derek felt himself being lifted as well but no matter how hard he fought he continued moving toward the window. His movement was halted just inside the window frame, and he watched as Stiles’s immobilized body drifted down towards the necromancer who was standing on the front lawn.

“Derek Hale.” She spoke up to him, her voice seeming to bore its way directly into his head. “Too long ago your family stole Beacon Hills away from the supernatural world, and now I’m going to make you give it back. You have 24 hours to deliver the banshee to me at the Nemeton or I will force the spirits of your ancestors to kill him, just as I will force them to take over this town like they refused to do years ago.” The spirits holding Derek paralyzed dropped him to floor of Stiles’s room and before he could leap out after him the necromancer had disappeared, and Stiles with her.

“Stiles!” He screamed uselessly out the window onto the empty street below. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	11. Like Old Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to thehyacinthgirl for beta-ing!

Derek stared out the window in terror. All he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears and the pitiful sounds Stiles had made when he was forcefully ripped from sleep.

 

_Give up Lydia or let Stiles be murdered._

 

Neither was an option for him. There had been a time long ago when he deeply believed killing Lydia was best for Beacon Hills, but she was his pack now and he would never intentionally harm her again. Conversely, he couldn't give up Stiles. Not again.

 

Pulling out his phone, Derek punched in Scott's speed dial code and wait the interminably long time for him to pick up on the third ring.

 

"What happened Derek?"

 

"She took Stiles." His voice was hoarse and he realized he was desperately holding back tears that burned at the back of his throat. "She wants me to give her Lydia within the next 24 hours or she's going to kill him."

 

He heard Scott's heart begin to thunder over the phone. "She's at Deaton's now. Meet us there." It sounded like he'd had the wind knocked from him and he was struggling for breath. In that moment Derek understood that Stiles never stopped meaning the world to Scott. It was just their world that had changed and they didn't know how to fit each other into it anymore.

~~~~~~~~

 

Lydia opened the mountain ash door for them at the clinic, her jaw set in determination but her eyes shining with fear. The rest of the pack arrived shortly and Derek recounted what happened less than an hour before, fighting to keep his voice steady. He had almost lost Stiles so many times before and he couldn’t fall apart yet. Not when he still had a chance to save him, no matter how small it seemed.

 

“Have you found anything, Lydia?” Scott asked as Derek finished.

 

“Not about the currents, no. But I discovered how the coven bound Mina’s powers in the Nemeton before. They didn’t all do it simultaneously. It was actually only the coven’s leader who took her powers, and she got the power to do it by pulling it from the other members of the coven. It turns out that they sacrificed themselves to give her enough power.”

 

“So you’re saying that you can take the necromancer’s powers out of her in order to pull the spirits out of the people of Beacon Hills?” Kira asked and Lydia nodded. “But that might kill her?” Lydia nodded again, tentatively. The pack still functioned on a ‘no kill’ policy.

 

“I don’t care.” Scott announced firmly, his fervor startling them all. “I almost got Stiles killed once and I lost him as a friend working on that system. If we have to kill her to save him, we will, but we will not kill any of the spirit hosts. They are still just human beings under her control.”

 

Lydia’s features turned steely with resolve at his permission. Despite the almost cold-blooded facade she typically wore, Lydia was one of the most kind-hearted members of the pack and she was likely more terrified by the idea of killing someone than Scott. She was, however, possibly more attached to Stiles than even Derek and the concept of losing him because she didn’t do everything she could was not an option for Lydia.

 

“So what’s the plan if she reneges on her part of the agreement when we show up?” Lydia looked to Derek, and he felt overwhelmed at the amount of faith he saw in her face. She trusted him implicitly right now, no matter how much he had messed up in the past. “I mean, she only said you had to bring me there. Even though she didn’t say we had to come alone, she’s likely to hurt Stiles when she sees the rest of us there.”

 

Derek closed his eyes to think for a moment, locking his jaw in frustration. He had thought of that, but couldn’t come up with any kind of finite plan. His heart sank excruciatingly at the words he had to speak next. “There’s no good answer for that. Stiles’s life is in danger no matter what we prepare, and so is Lydia’s. Our only option is to have as many contingency plans as possible.”

 

“So we send you and Lydia in from the front and I’ll go in with Kira, Brett, Malia, and Mason from the side. Liam, Hayden, and Ethan will circle around the preserve and go in from behind the Nemeton. You’ll stay hidden. I only want you coming in if the initial plans fail.”

 

“Which are?” Kira pressed.

 

“I’m going to go in with Derek. I’ll tell her I’m letting her have me if she lets Stiles go first.”

 

“If she refuses,” Derek continued, “you’re going to become necessary immediately, Scott. I believe that the spirits of my ancestors are still essentially werewolf, even though they’ve inhabited human bodies, so if the necromancer refuses to let Stiles go first, you have to use your alpha abilities and force them to submit.”

 

Scott looked panicked at that. “I haven’t done that since I turned Malia. I don’t know if I can do that to a whole pack of wolves.”

 

“You can Scott. Alphas gain strength from their pack members. Stiles is arguably the most important pack member to you. Harness your fear and anger that he’s in danger and release that in your command for obedience. Do you remember how you felt when you broke through the mountain ash for the first time? Or when you finally defeated Peter?” Scott nodded. “It should be like that. You’re a true alpha, which means your power comes from your force of will and heart. You can literally do anything if you believe you can strongly enough.”

 

"What happens if it works?"

 

"I'll get Stiles out, and then we take it as it comes. I don't know what to expect, but the rest is really up to Lydia so we just have to protect her at all costs."

 

"We should all sleep then." Said Scott. "We'll head in as soon as the sun starts to rise."

 

They all found various places around the clinic to try and get a few hours sleep but Derek just paced out front, trying to still his encroaching panic. He knew Stiles would die for Beacon Hills and his friends. He had put himself in the direct line of fire so many times Derek had lost count. Despite that, a cold, hard knot tied itself in his chest at the thought that they were going into this knowing they may have to let Stiles die and he found himself struggling to draw adequate breath.

 

Deaton came out then, just as he felt himself imploding, and placed a firm hand at the crook of his neck and shoulder. It was a familiar soothing technique from the days when his mom was still alive and he immediately felt his breath coming easier.

 

"How did you know?" He asked the vet in surprise.

 

"Your mother had a way with you." Deaton's face turned just a fraction softer at the mention of Talia, but it was enough for Derek to understand. "Years ago I told you that you were too distrusting to be a good alpha. That's not true anymore. You would make an excellent alpha, Derek."

 

"Too bad I missed that chance."

 

Deaton’s face turned cloudy and obscure at that. “Indeed.”

~~~~~~~~

 

Morning came too slowly, but eventually the sun began rising. It should have been a beautiful morning, but the orange glow creeping above the forest line seemed harsh and unforgiving in light of their task. The pack parked at the very edges of the preserve and entered the woods from their assigned positions.

 

As they stepped along the well-trodden paths Derek was so familiar with from childhood, Lydia slipped her small hand into his large one. He turned to give her as firm a smile as he could manage and upon seeing the openness of her face he knew they shared the same intrinsic knowledge and fear that Stiles may likely die that day and the single glance between them conveyed that they were both preemptively forgiving the other for any choices they would make in order to save Beacon Hills. Communicating that at least if they lost Stiles, they would still have each other, each outsiders in their own personal way.

 

“We’re getting close.” Lydia broke the silence between them. “I can feel it.”

 

Just as she spoke, a wall of decay met Derek’s senses and he almost staggered for a moment at the stench when suddenly they broke into the Nemeton’s clearing. The necromancer stood atop the giant stump, a small ring of fire humming angrily around her. Derek barely saw her, however, as his attention was drawn to the rapidly thrumming heartbeat broadcasting at him from the side of the clearing. Stiles’s hands and feet had been bound together in front of his body and he hung limply from a low branch, his head lolling forwards. Standing guard around him was the Stanley family and it hit him like a boulder as he recognized the spirits of Hales past within the human bodies by the manner in which they held themselves. Closest to Stiles and staring him down with a coldness that made him shiver, was the ancestral Hale alpha inhabiting Mrs. Stanley.

 

Simply feeling the presence of a Hale alpha cowed Derek and he began shivering where he stood, but Lydia’s tightening grasp drew him back to the reality of the situation, and he remembered what they were there to do. He tore his eyes from Mrs. Stanley and watched Lydia proudly as her voice rang out toward the necromancer, not betraying an ounce of the fear he knew she felt.

 

“You’ll let him go first, and then you can have me.”

 

Mina’s laughter clanged through the preserve and Derek gritted his teeth as the sound reverberated through his bones.

 

“Oh silly girl. I said I wouldn’t kill him if the precious werewolf brought you to me, but I didn’t say I would give him back.” She set piercing black eyes upon Lydia and Derek saw goosebumps raise on the skin of her arms. “No, I saved a very special spirit just for him and it is going to be so fun when he wakes up to watch you be destroyed by your ancestor and best friend.”

 

Derek felt his skin crawl. Stiles wasn’t in there right now, and if they didn’t succeed he would either be killed or wake up as a banshee entrapped by the necromancer’s magic. He flashed back to the day Chris Argent had almost shot the Nogitsune and shuddered, unwilling to consider that plan of action. They would save Stiles just as they had before.

 

“Lydia you have to start.” He whispered, pushing her forward slightly before beginning to shift towards Stiles and speaking softly once more. “Scott, we’re going to need you.”

 

“Oh are you trying to speak to your alpha?” The necromancer taunted him, raising a cocky eyebrow. “Because I think he’s going to be rather distracted right now.”

~~~~~~~~

 

Scott knew the plan wasn’t going well. The Nemeton’s power distorted his hearing somewhat, but his connection to Lydia and Derek told him he was going to need to act soon. He signalled to the other three that he was moving forward toward the clearing, but suddenly the air felt thick and he froze, staring straight ahead. Allison stood before him, as beautiful as ever. Her smile lit up her face as she reached out toward him.

 

“I missed you, Scott. You’ve been gone for such a long time.”

 

“I didn’t go anywhere, Allison.” He paused, confused. “I don’t know where you’ve been. Why haven’t I seen you?"

 

Mason, Kira, Brett, and Malia looked between each other in concern. This was the first non-violent spirit encounter they had seen, but that didn’t mean intervening inappropriately couldn’t make it go bad.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter who went where.” Allison was saying. “I’m here now.”

 

“Allison, you’ve missed so much.” Scott was confused. He wasn’t sure what Allison wanted with him, or if she was real, or what he should say. He reached out to grasp the hand Allison offered him, but frowned as he felt a pressure in his other. Looking back, he saw that it was Kira, tugging lightly and looking at him imploringly.

 

“Scott, Stiles needs you.”

 

“What?” He said dumbly.

 

“Can’t you hear Derek?” She pressed urgently. “Stiles needs you to be his alpha. You need to save Stiles.”

 

“But Allison is here. She hasn’t been here in so long. Stiles can wait.”

 

Kira shook her head insistently. “No, Scott. Allison isn’t here. Allison is dead. You need to help Stiles.”

 

Scott shook his head pathetically, looking helplessly between Kira and Allison, who smiled serenely at him.

 

“Pain, Kira!” Mason called to her from behind the protective barrier that was Brett. “Maybe if he feels pain, he can snap out of it.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kira drew her Katana and slashed a single clean gash across Scott’s cheek and he withdrew his hand from Allison’s to grasp at the torn and bleeding skin.

 

“Scott are you with me?” Kira pressed into his space to hold his head up toward her. “Stiles needs you now! We’re running out of time.”

 

“What? Stiles?” Scott’s confusion suddenly dissipated, and understanding lit up his healing face. “Stiles! I need to get there.” He turned and bolted toward the clearing, suddenly capable of hearing Derek’s insistent pleas for help.

~~~~~~~~

 

Derek didn’t know exactly what the Necromancer had summoned to keep Scott out of the picture, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Scott had not yet appeared, Lydia was lunging at Mina’s throat, and the Stanleys were tightening their circle around Stiles.

 

Before Derek could process that she had begun, Lydia was suddenly absorbing the Necromancer’s powers into herself, the flashing marks receding from her skin and stretching onto Lydia’s. As she did so, the necromancer released a final command to kill Stiles and Derek watched in horror as Mrs. Stanley drew her claws above Stiles’s head. The roar that interrupted was magnificent and terrifying in equal measure and Derek barely managed to lift his head and see Scott’s glowing red eyes emitting alpha power from beyond the clearing. The Stanley’s dropped to the ground in submission and Derek rose and sprinted towards the cluster in order to remove Stiles from imminent danger.

 

The influence Scott’s howl held was insufficient to cow the alpha spirit within Mrs. Stanley though, and she rose stiffly against Scott’s command to complete her task. Derek swiftly leapt at her, intent on killing, when Scott’s one rule rang through his mind and without thinking he wrapped his arm around behind her and inserted his claws into the memory centers in her vertebrae.

 

Memories came flooding into him of a time long before he existed. Children playing in the basement of the house that no longer stood, covens of witches and packs of wendigos bartering at the market, Alpha Hale signing agreements with the new human sheriff.

 

The clearing had dissolved away around him, and Derek was no longer conscious of Lydia completely draining the lifeforce from the necromancer, or Scott freeing Stiles from the ropes that bound him to the tree, or the breath that Lydia took in as she pulled the spirits in Beacon Hills towards her. He wasn’t aware of the moment she no longer should have been able to breath in an ounce more air but somehow kept inhaling, and he wasn’t aware when the wood of the Nemeton cracked with the force of the banshee sending the spirits back to their plane.

 

All that Derek was aware of was the strange burning sensation spreading up from his fingers and filling him with a powerful, soothing heat with which he was intimately familiar. Strength surged through his veins like electricity through a wire and every nerve stood on edge as they attempted adjust to the sensory overload. As the spark coursed through him, Derek felt pressure build in his chest and lungs until his ribs couldn't withstand it any longer and he released the tension in a howl he had never heard from himself before. The howl of an alpha that was equipped for the power.

 

Whereas the shift had begun rapidly, surging up within him until reaching its zenith, Derek's return down to his new baseline was gradual. First, the memories rushing in from the alpha spirit drifted to a halt and then the electricity in veins fizzled down to an invigorating buzzing sensation that was finally replaced by the very concrete awareness of large hands cupping his cheeks. Opening his eyes for the first time in what felt like eternity, Derek’s gaze found Stiles who released a small gasp as he was met with the glowing red of alpha eyes.

 

“How?” Stiles breathed out at the same time time Derek whispered, “You’re okay?”

 

Stiles nodded dumbly, still staring awestruck at Derek’s eyes. “I’m okay. It’s all over.”

~~~~~~~~

 

Scott watched in horror from the woods as the alpha spirit within Mrs. Stanley resisted his command and stood as she reached her clawed hand towards Stiles’s throat. Everything seemed to slow in his mind as he processed the fact he couldn’t possibly reach the clearing fast enough to save Stiles and his knees gave out beneath him. Just as the tears began welling up in his eyes, almost obscuring his vision, he caught Derek’s impossibly fast-moving form sprinting at Mrs. Stanley and plunging his claws into the back of her neck.

The two figures froze, stretched awkwardly over Stiles’s hanging figure, and the air was abruptly silent as Lydia took in a breath that appeared to last forever. Scott watched as the spirits’ shimmering forms escaped their human forms and rushed into Lydia as though pulled in by the suction of her breath. He found strength in his legs again when he saw the spirit pull from Stiles’s limp body and his best friend began waking from his trance. Stiles began struggling against his bonds as he stared up in confusion at the unmoving figures of Derek and Mrs. Stanley linked by claws standing above him. Wrapping one strong arm awkwardly around Stiles’s waist, Scott severed the rope holding him and pulled him out from beneath the human bridge above him.

 

The two watched Derek’s paralyzed figure in confusion as the glow of the spirit within Mrs. Stanley seemed to pulse from her body into his through the link at his claws. In the background, Lydia had sunk to her knees on the Nemeton, bowing under the weight of the spirits flowing through her as the conduit between the earthly and spiritual plane. Just as it seemed her inhuman inhalation was about to stutter to an end, the nebulous form of the alpha spirit, shuddered out of Derek’s body, and Stiles noted in a sort of detached interest that it was a different color than the others, a dim gold rather than vibrant silver. He couldn’t find it in him to wonder why as Derek’s head fell back and he released a roar the likes of which Stiles had never heard as he pulled his claws from Mrs. Stanley, who immediately dropped to the ground.

 

Scott rushed to staunch the sluggish bleeding in her neck, while Stiles hurried to Derek, and the rest of the pack approached Lydia at the Nemeton.

 

Stiles’s heart thundered in his chest as he stumbled on numb legs towards Derek, terrified of discovering what the wolf’s connection to Mrs. Stanley had done to him. Upon reaching the wolf, still standing bizarrely still, Stiles reached up and cupped Derek’s face with his hands, brushing his thumbs against the rough stubble. Surprise pulled the air from him in a quiet gasp when Derek finally opened his eyes and they burned red.

 

“How?” He asked quietly. Derek’s voice was rough and quiet as he asked if Stiles was okay at exactly the same time. Stiles breathed in relief hearing Derek’s voice, apparently his own.

 

“I’m okay. It’s all over.”

 

Derek’s eyes widened in relief before turning to concern again. “Lydia?” He asked, turning abruptly toward the Nemeton where the pack had circled around Lydia’s curled and shivering figure. She was breathing heavily, her hands gripping tightly into the wood of the Nemeton, which had splintered apart beneath her. “Lydia?” He repeated.

 

She shook her head faintly. “I’m fine. Took everything.” Her voice was wrecked as though the force of what she had done had torn her throat apart. It may well have done.

 

Derek pulled his jacket off and laid it over Lydia before gently releasing her hands from the Nemeton and guiding her arms into the sleeves. “Come on. Let’s get you to Deaton and make sure you’re okay.” He said softly as he slipped his arms into the crooks of her body and picked her up, amazed at how light she felt in his new strength. Stiles hurried over then, seeming to have regained his legs, and swept the fingers of one hand carefully through Lydia’s hair to clear it away so he could see her face as he reached the other grasp firmly at the back of Derek’s neck. Both leaned back faintly into his touch, and the three stayed that way for a moment, relief flooding their beings at having not lost their respective people.

 

Before anyone could even begin to think about what to do with the Necromancer’s shriveled body or the baffled and vaguely terrified Stanley family, unfamiliar figures stepped soundlessly into the clearing. Though they appeared to be like any regular person, Derek could see an aura about them that was totally foreign to him, and he felt in his bones that these were the Keepers. Deaton was among them, and without speaking he strode over to Derek and Lydia while the Keepers approached the Stanley family.

 

“Will you put her down please, Derek?” Deaton said.

 

He lowered her to the ground carefully and then turned to watch the Keepers as Deaton inspected Lydia. The Stanley’s appeared frozen, and while Derek initially thought they were just paralyzed with fear he quickly realized they were quite literally stopped in place by some force the Keepers exerted upon them. Before he could understand what the Keepers were doing, the Stanleys were engulfed in a thick fog and disappeared from sight.

 

“What did you do to them?” He roared, his fangs dropping involuntarily in his anger. The Keeper closest to him, turned her deep black, impassive eyes on him.

 

“We don’t kill, Derek.” Her voice echoed and wavered within the clearing, as though she weren’t completely present. Perhaps she wasn’t. “We sent them home. They won’t remember any of this.”

 

“And you’ll take our memories now too?” Derek found the thought surprisingly disappointing. Knowing the history of Beacon Hills had ignited a feeling of connection to his family he hadn’t felt in years.

 

“Everyone else’s, yes. But not yours. You unintentionally reaquired the Hale alpha spark when you stopped Mrs. Stanley.”

 

Derek’s head began to swim. He had known that of course, but somehow having it confirmed was overwhelming, and he grasped at Stiles’s hand for a sense of balance. The long fingers gripped around his, and he turned to find Stiles looking at him reassuringly, as if to say, ‘It’s alright. I’m here. You’re okay.’

 

“I don’t understand. How can that happen?”

 

“You’ve heard Deaton mention regression to the mean, I’m sure?” Derek nodded. “The concept that nothing can ever be too bad or too good for very long works within the broader plan of the Universe in a constant struggle for balance. Sometimes the Universe tries something and it doesn’t work and so it has to try again. When the necromancer came to Beacon Hills long ago, she was meant to be defeated, but that didn’t work and so the Universe had to try again. The convergence of this pack and its members was the Universe attempting to fit the right pieces together that could eliminate the necromancer and return balance to Beacon Hills.

 

“As you now know, having absorbed the Hale spark, the treaty between the Hale pack and Beacon Hills centers around the Nemeton. The sheer existence of a Hale alpha keeps the Nemeton balanced and keeps Beacon Hills from deviating too far from the mean. Part of the reason that the incidences that occurred after Scott, Stiles, and Allison sacrificed themselves to save their parents were so bad was because you sacrificed the Hale spark to save your sister. There was nothing left to keep the Nemeton’s new power in check.”

 

“So I have to be an alpha?” The Keeper nodded and Derek smiled at the irony of it all. After Laura’s death all he had craved was to possess the power to avenge her and protect his home until giving it up for the sake of Cora’s life. Now the Universe was forcing it back at him at precisely the time in his life where he finally felt he could handle the power. Perhaps it had finally gotten it right this time. “I don’t have a pack.”

 

“You can find one.”

 

“I won’t bite any more people.” Though none of his bitten beta’s had begrudged him for turning them, he wasn’t sure he could inflict it intentionally upon more people. Stiles squeezed his hand as he said it and Derek turned to him in surprise as the human chuckled softly.

 

“Derek, you have betas. You just have to find them.” Of course he was talking about Cora and Isaac and Jackson.

 

“What if they don’t want me?” He looked back to the Keeper. “I can’t be an alpha without a pack.”

 

“Unfortunately, that isn’t our place to interfere. Our duty here is simply to remove the memories of Beacon Hills’s origins from those with whom it doesn’t belong. Once we have taken that memory, we hope to never see you again.”

 

Fog enveloped them then, and Derek watched through his alpha eyes as it curled lazily into the eyes and noses of Scott and his pack while leaving him unaffected. The heavy whiteness dissipated then, taking the Keepers with it, and Derek was left clinging tightly to Stiles’s hand as relief, joy, and confusion filled him to the brim.

 

The look Stiles set on him mirrored his feelings and they simply stood in each other’s space for a while, absorbing the comforting heat that finally came from being together outside of necessity. Stiles pressed in close until they were chest to chest and Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’s forehead.

 

“So you’re an alpha again.” Derek simply nodded, not trusting his voice. “You gonna go find Cora?” Another nod.

 

Stiles pulled away just enough for Derek to see the uncharacteristically shy expression in his eyes. “Can I come with?”

 

He felt his heart burst at the vulnerability with which Stiles said it, as though he still wasn’t sure of how much Derek wanted him. They had a good deal of summer left, though, and Derek intended to use every ounce of it to prove his feelings genuine. A smile spread across his face as he raised his free hand to grip Stiles’s long hair gently and pulled their foreheads together. “You can come with me anywhere I go.”

~~~~~~~~

 

Epilogue

 

Lydia was driving them home for Thanksgiving, and Stiles was practically bursting out of his skin. Though it had only really been three months since Derek and Cora had dropped him off at Stanford for his sophomore year, the time had dragged on slowly. They texted constantly and Skyped regularly, but it was never enough. After the intensity of the necromancer experience, followed by nearly a month of tracing Cora through South America alone, the time apart from Derek was an exquisite form of torture. He pushed through it by concentrating on track and his studies, ultimately winning state and ensuring himself a full-ride scholarship for his junior year- a fact that appeased his father into letting him go on another Omega hunt with Derek over winter break.

 

He had chosen to remain Scott’s beta, but the emotional pull to join Derek was always a strong presence in his mind and he knew someday he may have to choose. It simply wasn’t feasible in the werewolf world to be tied so powerfully to two separate alphas, but for now it worked. Scott visited Stiles and Lydia on long weekends, and Stiles would help Derek rebuild his pack by seeking out Omegas who wanted new connections.  

 

His dad met him out on the front steps when Lydia finally dropped him off and they hugged vigorously for a while before the door behind them opened and Stiles caught his breath at the sight of Derek standing in the entryway. Without a thought, he extricated himself from his father’s arms and flew into Derek’s, nuzzling into his neck to breath in his familiar woody scent.

 

“Welcome home.” Derek’s voice was low in his ear and the familiar deep rumble settled soothingly into his bones.

The Sheriff cleared his throat behind them and Stiles reluctantly separated from Derek to face him. “Dinner’s ready. I hope you don’t mind we invited some guests.” The mischievous glint in his father’s eyes propelled Stiles into the dining room and around the table sat Cora, Isaac, and Jackson, looking surprisingly at ease and happy with one another in only the way a pack could. Stiles looked back at Derek and his heart swelled at the pride and wholeness he found in his face. The universe had finally gotten it right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading to the end. I hope you enjoyed :) Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


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